each night as i come to bed, thinking that when it comes down to it, everything - every single aspect of my life i've ever come to love and shed my tears over - boils down to disappointment.
things i wish i could rewind,
things i can no longer mend,
fretting and being upset over what would have been, what could have been, what should have been.
each night i close my eyes knowing that yes, tomorrow
will be the first day of the rest of my life. i'll be taking the leap. everyday will be sunny and wherever i am, i'll be exactly where i want to be.
and each morning i wake up to the same, indifferent thing i did every single day. i didn't start yoga. i didn't take pictures. i didn't read a book per day. i didn't take pumpkin for a walk. i didn't meet new friends.
and as each day passes, i know that the only person i can blame is no one