This Year, Still Here

...definitely coming. She's just stuck in traffic, she's just... This year,

this year, I'm becoming someone chemically new. Pull out each Lexapro,

trauma solved by afternoon. This year, this year, the breakthrough is

incredibly near. I'm fine, I'm fine in a screaming-at-my-own-reflection kinda way,

my dear. It's not a reboot, it's not a patch.

I'm not a phone with a cracked screen latch. I'm just the same six thoughts

on shuffled repeat. I'm wasting my life, I'm wasting my life.

I'm wasting my life. But changing would mean admitting I already did.