“It’s a phase” you say,
Just a chapter in my existence.
It’s been “Three whole years” I mumble:
But I can’t help but admire its consistence,
Its resistance to the “new year, new me”,
A simple phrase repeated at each 12 o’clock chime,
1st of January be kind to me.
“You’re being dramatic” you joke.
I know you’re only trying to lighten the mood,
But it’s Six am and the sky will do that soon.
The sun attempts to fight awake,
I sympathise with you,
Hot ball of fire that illuminates us.
This is silly really,
You’re the centre of the solar system
And I’m simply a deceased star.
Why are you still awake?
Don’t you have things to be doing?
Greater things to achieve?
“Probably” I scowl.
I’m just not fully aware of them yet,
Nor am I particularly motivated
To soar for failure.
Not just yet.
– Molly Johnston