All your dreams have died, welcome to 2017. The last party leftover has long been eaten, you're back to drinking too much wine and watching too much television. You have not set foot in the gym, the sky is grey, there is no end in sight and it will never be spring again.
I can't speak for you, but so far 2017 has been one punch in the box after another. I have a work project that's a complete clusterfuck that I'm fruitlessly trying to spin into gold and failing and in return the project is giving me: no down time whatsoever, an added ten pounds, repetitive stress injuries, flaky scalp and all the zits I want. Not to mention endless exhaustion, frustration and feeling like I am trying to run underwater along with the knowledge that tax season is just about to start anyway so my life is not mine for the next three months anyway. In the background: a thing I'm trying to get together for my book that I can't talk about but goes around and around and likely will end in futility, communication issues at home which go as they go with every boy I've ever been with ever in life which is: I say what I need, the boy says YES I WILL DO THAT THING BECAUSE I AM GOOD AND SUPPORTIVE! and I say, I need those things now and the boy says . . .whut? Oh. How about I antagonize the fuck out of you instead? And in return I say, I may stab you in the hand when I get home for lunch. Tempt not a desperate woman. JOW.
I am not at my best at present. 2017 is gaining traction on me and it's hard to put on my best dress and repeatedly outrun it. Still, I try.
Somehow though, people persist in thinking I have my shit together. I think this is because I can present a decently cohesive front to the intertubes and this gives me some solace in dealing with the fact that my life is presently a shit show. I would like to pass this solace onto you because this is part of how we outsmart 2017 even though it is super trying to kill us already.