"Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don't work."

I always think that when I wake up New Year's day, everything should be different, feel different, as though everyone gets a second chance, everyone starts over, we all begin again.

As usual nothing changes. I still have the same thoughts, the same fears, hopes, anxieties. Still sipping my usual black coffee out of the same pheasant mug.

But something weird did happen this morning...

I got home around 3:00 AM, drowsy, cold, and completely wired. The party I came back from was fun; hanging out with good friends, laughing hysterically at ridiculous games, and trying to light fireworks in 10 degree weather.

I didn't think I would be able to get to sleep from all the sugary and uber caffeinated beverages I consumed over the last few hours. But I collapsed, only to wake up at sunrise with no chance of falling back to sleep again.
As usual...

I grabbed the book I was reading and anxious to finish (a book I could have finished in one day if given the chance). It's James Frey's follow-up to his first controversial memoir, and even better I might add. By the last 10 pages... I cried, sobbed actually, uncontrollably. I had to stop reading to let the tears flood out of my eyes so I could see the words on the pages in front of me.

I have always read books that make me sad, make me want to cry, always engaging myself with the character as much as one is able. But never did I let myself go, never have I felt that involved with a book, a character, a man's life.

My hands were shaking. My eyes, stinging. Mascara smudged on my pillow. I looked like a fucking train wreck.

Everything is still the same. But everything changed.