my hollow drums

new year’s resolution

This year I am sick of being both the car crash and the audience. I tried all my best vanishing acts and there’s still someone beating inside my hollow-drum heart, so I’m giving up my alibis and admitting all my sins. The new messiahs are the high school burnouts whose names you never knew, and they would tell you how to find God for a pack of cigarettes and a dollar, if you only had the guts to take it.

This year I took all the skeletons out of my closet and tried them on for size. None of them fit, so I burned the bones and threw them out to sea, flew over the Wasatch mountains and asked myself to give up everything for love. When the sun sank below the horizon, I took it all back again, and now every sunrise is a ritual of letting go.

This year I broke all my promises. I added up my bruises and realized they were a Fibonacci sequence, each one the sum of the ones before, and laughed at the years in which I learned everything the hard way. If reincarnation is true, I think in each life I will love you a little better, so that when we finally reach the finish line we will count all our scars as blessings. Until then, tell your mother I’m sorry.

This year I found out who I wasn’t. Next year, I will tell you who I am.