Roll Me In Designer Sheets

Happy New Year.
I was thinking I might give this place an overhaul and do some redecorating, but the more I thought about playing with colours and fonts, the less I liked the idea and thus made the decision to fight temptation and leave well enough alone. Maybe I'll colour my hair instead. Maybe.

Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed. I think that sounds like a good motto to have this year. It shouldn't matter that I'm stealing it from The Fray's lyrics, should it? Naw. I like the way it sounds. I like the potential it holds. I like the promise this new year cradles. Maybe I'll just use the end of that line as my motto. Try to break with the ones I've followed. Maybe it will be less heartbreaking. Probably not, but it is better to have lost love than to never have loved at all. I wonder why they never came up with another saying, something like: Don't bother loving any other, they will only crush your heart and leave you lingering. Too cynical? Perhaps a bit. That's not really how I feel. I always love like I've never been hurt. Fall hard. Fall real hard. But make sure you do it slowly, so the emotions run so deep in your veins you could rip your own eyes out. Scrape your knees, wipe up the blood. Laugh when you want to scream and pretend the tears in your eyes aren't the blood droplets from your heart. Oh wait. That was last years fate.
This year has more silver linings. This year holds truer intentions, or maybe they're just not so sugar coated. Straighten up. Suck it up. Tie one on. Hold up your glass with me and toast to a year full of meaningful and satisfying sex. Well, satisfying at least. I tried that meaningful shit and look where it got me. I've given myself a clean slate this time around. Breaking with the one I have long followed. Even if it was being held on with my heart. Already things are starting to look up. How much you want to bet that the unrequited will soon cease to exist? Especially since the unrequited is not really unrequited at all, it's just young and not ready for love. Whatever. Breaking. Heartbreaking. No longer.
I'm amazing. Confused. Crazy. Refreshing. My veins are ready for a new taste of what I can offer myself. Welcome to the age of coming into your own. If this is what I have to look forward to for the next nine years, I'm thrilled! Terrified. Anxious.
Roll me in designer sheets, I'll never get enough.