I look out my window at the expansive rolling hills surrounding me and I feel calm.
Bullshit.
Those hills are taunting me with their barren-ness
Mocking my solitary stance in the middle of fucking nowhere.
And it’s New Years.
The birds are chirping happily and it brings joy to the faces of the people around me.
Oh yeah, right. Because there are so many people here.
As far as I know there is just me and that fucking bird.
It’s on a mission to drive me insane.
And it’s New Years.
What the fuck is up with all these nature poems?
It only takes one look at a tree to decide that it’s green and brown, trunk and leaves.
Just like every other fucking tree in the universe.
Why does it deserve mention?
Especially on New Years.
It’s New Years.
And I’m not hungover.
I’m not with my friends.
I’m not happy and making promises.
No new start.
Just more pain.
On New Years.
Fucking New Years.
Author notes
I don't really know what this is about. It's more explaining an emotion as a metaphor because I don't have a word for it.
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