She lies in bed in her darkened bedroom. The only light is from the glow of her cellphone, which she holds close to her face since she isn’t wearing her glasses, and the thin column between the break in the curtains. She scrolls through her social network timeline, catching up on the lives of her friends and acquaintances, getting the latest news stories, and occasional meme.

Today, however, today is the start of a new year, so her timeline is full of optimism and well-wishes for a prosperous new year. Resolutions to eat better, exercise more, be a better person, run that marathon (wish me luck LOL), and other platitudes. There’s some posts about how shitty the previous year was and let’s make this upcoming year a good one, huh? New year, new me! She rolls her eyes and can feel her frown deepen on her face, much like that perpetually cranky feline, which she has seen a few memes about already this morning. “Happy New Ye–No.” Ha ha, Perpetually Cranky Feline! Ha ha!

And then there’s one post in particular that causes her to mutter out loud, “oh for the love of fuck…” It starts out as usual: this past year has been full of trials and many ups and downs. I wanted to throw in the towel several times, but I stuck it out and am I ever glad I did. The last half of the year, I met someone amazing and fell in love and I wish everyone out there the same in the new year–love and happiness. Happy New Year! 

She mocks the post in a falsetto voice, her words thick with sarcasm and snark, and she blows a raspberry at the end of her dramatic reenactment…for effect, of course.

Thanks for wishing me love, bitch she thinks. She has all but given up on that notion, but she has a niggling voice constantly telling her not to. She refers to this as her Mary Poppins Voice–it’s always annoyingly optimistic and cheerful even when she tries her hardest to be cold and bitter. And really, as much as she hates to admit it to herself sometimes, even after all the crap she’s been through in the relationship department, she’s a romantic. It offers her a reason to keep going even when she doesn’t want to.

She closes the app on her phone and stares up at the ceiling, studying the topography of the stucco. She imagines a Lord of the Rings scenario, with tiny hobbits traversing the peaks and valleys and giggles at the thought of middle earth above her head. Watch out for the ceiling fan, tiny hobbits!

Her stomach rumbles, signalling to her it’s time to get out of bed. There’s a resolution for you, she thinks. I resolve to eat breakfast this morning. 

And with that, she rises and makes good on her resolution. It’s going to be a good year.

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