“Go on,” I whisper, as I unfold my hands toward the open sky. A single fuck escapes from my fingers, soaring gracefully into the cool air.

“You’re free now,” I say.

My last fuck has gone.

Approaching this new year—yet another rebuilding year (aren’t they all?)—this reminds me to set and strive for goals.

To be more poetic.

To give fewer fucks.

To apply what I’m learning/what I’ve read.

To evolve into the best me.

Peace and prosperity. And power. And women. Let’s do this.

What i'm listening to:

Absolutely (Story of a Girl)
Nine Days
The Madding Crowd