When the clock strikes twelve.

Dear New-Years-Resolutions-inventor,

I think you should put your head in an oven.

How dare you try to inspire people with new challenges and give them false hope and inspiration. People don't need the first of the year to feel compelled to lose weight. To save more. To be nice. Quit something. Pick up something. Or just.. BE anything. Why can't you just accept people for who they are and live with their downfalls? Why do you always have to try to change them?

You came to knock at my door a few days ago. I didn't answer.

I'm sure you noticed.

When you walked away, did you wonder what I would've said to you on your visit?

Well, I guess you'll never know.

You're not welcome in my house. There's no room for you in my home. You leave people depressed because once again, they've failed at trying to better themselves. Once that grandfather clock strikes 12 on January 2nd, they're back to the same old habits.

Don't you get tired of your annual visit? Aren't you the least bit humiliated by coming back every year and finding these people in the same state you left them a year before?

I would.

Shame on you.

But let's say I HAD let you in. Let's pretend for just a second... hypothetically of course, that I served you tea and cookies and we had a chat about how this year was going to be different than the year (and years) before. What do you think I would have said to you? What do you think I would have mentioned?

I haven't made up my mind yet. I know somewhere in there, I would probably include something or other about having no self-defeat. And I would have added that it's been a long and hard year for me.

But you knew this.

Over gingersnaps and sugar treats, I would admit my need to exercise more and eat better. I guess it doesn't help that my yoga and pilates instructors are getting quite lenient with my lack of attendance as of late. Oh! And eating breakfast... one of your minions came over the other day and scolded me for not doing so. Or at least eating so poorly. And irregularly. But. Really... I'm trying to give up strawberry lemonade crystal light and sky flakes at 7:30 in the morning... and opting for something better instead like a whole wheat low fat cream cheese bagel and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice.

But let's see how long that lasts.

While sipping red and white tea, I would rant about the need to just kick back and let go, cease my neuroticism and mania for all things OCD-related and such. Trust me, I really can't help it that I clean up after people's crumbs. Or that I strive to be like that hippie down the street with an emaculate kitchen and a tidy living room. Or that I've stayed in on Saturday nights to rearrange my bedroom. You think I may need to be put on meds? ..... yeah, I thought so, too.

But I can't help it that I get turned on by a clean bedroom and an organized closet.

So that's the easy stuff. We haven't even touched the current events of the last four plus months and what I plan to do to deal with that. Perhaps everyday has been a mystery to me since then. But have you noticed? How different I am from who I used to be? I struggle to remember those days. Time is so fitting, isn't it? It still amazes me how mighty people really are. Maybe that's why you keep coming around every year? Because there's a small part of you that really do believe that people can change their ways. And are strong enough to do it. Who knows...

But you already know what I'll say to that.

Some people can't change. And they never will. They'll continue feeding that hungry side of them that keep doing the things they know they shouldn't touch.

After your short stay, I would walk you to the door, stand by the open frame, wave and watch you go. With your trench coat and leather gloves on, the last I'll see of you is just the shadows you leave behind. I'll call out and say, "see you next year!"

But you're no longer there.

I watch the cursor blink on the screen as I grapple for more words to say to you.

I guess I hate and love you. You make me want to be a better person on the next visit as the year before. But when I fail you, I hate you, cause I'm so disappointed in myself.

Maybe next year, I'll open the door when you call.

Until then, I'll keep the oven door open.

Just in case you come by.


Sincerely,
The girl enjoying red and white tea with gingersnap cookies by herself.