NYE, time for intentions.

I’m listening to Joni Mitchell’s Blue album a lot lately. That album wouldn’t exist had she not fallen for a few wretched men. I’m sure they were great in bed, but they left her in the lurch, each of them.

She took that heartbreak and wrote exquisite poetry. Songs we still sing when we’ve got the blues. Songs we empathize with because we know the pain…if we’ve ever been amenable to falling in love with broken men. I’ve written enough about these broken men. High time to find ones who aren’t. Time to start looking for ones who don’t inspire poetry but do answer texts. Who do think of me when I’m not around. Who don’t treat me as another drug or a certainty upon which to build their self-esteem without considering what I might be going through on my side.

It doesn’t matter if they don’t even know they’re shitty. I’m done trying to reform them (let’s get real) because I couldn’t fix my father.

I’ll settle for a little less poetry in my life if it comes with men who aren’t shitty.

As Maddie said, 2022: time to take out the trash.