2022, what a year. I do mean that with a healthy does of equal parts sarcasm and sincerity. This being my first blog post ever as an published author and its last one of the year. I want to believe there's a certain level of poetic justice that somehow relates to my life. I cannot in sound mind able to say what it is, but I am aware of its presence as new years eve slowly draws its's curtain and ends with an unapologetic fuck off as the other two years have done.

Tomorrow I'll - yeah it's always tomorrow isn't it. Tomorrow I'll do some more writing. Tomorrow, I'll go to the gym. Tomorrow, I'll get my life straight.

There's always a whole lot of "tomorrow's" because the thought of today is exhausting.

Today is anxiety.
Today is exhausting.
Today is overwhelming.
Today isn't a good day.

Tomorrow though
Tomorrow
There could be hope