Seriously dude... what. the. fuck.
Did I wrong you in some way that made you so colossally pissed at me that you had to chase me for 12 months with a chariot of fire and destruction?
I mean, we've got a few good hours left in us so I'm hoping we can end on at least moderately peaceful terms but what the hell did you have against me? The only truly good things I got this year were a new couch set, a former prison guard, and a super hero best friend. But even then, yo managed to pry everything but the couch from my hands in the eleventh hour.
I can't say I was the most loving either, but at least I tried. I had a hope in you, faith that you'd bring me something better. Maybe I didn't give 100% to you but I at least hit the lower 90s.
It feels like all you did was take from me this year. You took jobs, took friends, took futures, took all joy from me when it was the only thing I had left. So I ran.
I chased the moon, I chased the deer in my backyard, I chased sunsets and I chased the windstorms out of my hair. Guess what? I still win.
You tried your best to destroy me and to be honest, you got pretty close. But there's still too much fight to ever give up even when I'm hanging by threads.
My house is a mess, my life is a mess and my immediate future looks about as uncertain as the piles of rubble across the street where beautiful buildings once stood. Yeah. You took the stained glass windows too.
Unfortunately for you, I can still see Orion watching me outside my bedroom window. You can't move the constellations, and I still have eyes to see. You haven't taken the moon or Jupiter or Venus and I wait for the frosty nights when I can talk to them in orbit across my bleak horizons.
It's been a month of long Decembers but you underestimated me. I still have reason to believe. I'm still here. Tomorrow, you'll be just a fading memory, but I'll still wake up breathing,
Checkmate, motherfucker.
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