didn’t leave marks. You lied. It was just as addicting and just as hurtful. It left its mark and it left another scar. You whispered in my ear that I was doing the right thing as I snapped away and I believed you. You pushed me into relapse and I will never forgive you for that.
I hate being a quitter and I will do anything to not be one. But you made me one, 2014. You urged me to quit—you even took away my motivation. You took away the things that pushed me to go on and accomplish my goals. You made my goals seem insignificant. You bastard. How dare you strip that away from me? How dare you make me out to be a quitter?
So, with my head held high, I am standing hand in hand with 2015. My heart aches, my scars burn, and the anger welling up inside my chest might just rip a hole through my throat, but I will walk on. I will take it step by step with 2015 as I re-wire my brain. It might take 730 days or even 1,095 days to get where I should have been before, but I will make it there. Whether it be 2015 that’s finally holding my hand, or 2017. Either way, damn you, 2014, for setting me up for failure. Damn you for holding me back. Damn you for what you did to me. My middle finger is raised high to you, and a smile is stretched across my face as I turn my back towards you and proceed to sprint in the opposite direction. So goodbye and good riddance.
I won’t miss you.