Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
It’s the eve of something different. I’m up late, tossing and turning between my cold sheets. It’s the eve of something beautiful and I’m afraid I’ll miss it.
I think we’re all been there. Lost the moments that become hours, that become days; reeling in the chaos. It’s almost midnight, again. It looks like ever other night but this feels different. Another year, another chance.
Maybe this time, it’s different. Clean slate, fresh start. Washing off another year, and swimming in the hope of change.
It’s midnight, and I, I hope to change.