There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just spit it out.
I'm kicking you to the curb.
Stick a fork in us and let the alley cats fight over whatever scraps remain
I wish I could say I had a good run with you, but the fact of the matter is you slowed me down. You made me believe you'd taken me somewhere -- one giant step closer to 40 -- and that the time for me to achieve my lifelong dreams had come and gone.
"Face it, you're just different from others. You have to work so much harder for good things to happen to you," you said.
You made me question whether or not the dreams I had for myself were truly mine.
"More deadlines. More pressure. You hate that stuff. I don't think you really want to be a writer," you said.
OK. So, I'll give you credit for making me take the time to reflect on what I truly want out of life and the reasons I've chased those dreams for so long.
But that's all you get.
I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I'm done with the doubt. I'm done with this anxiety you've made me feel when I look at a blank page.
Someone told me last week that the Lord had given them a great gift through my writing. That meant something to me...more than that person will probably ever know.
It also tells me there is a reason I've been chasing these dreams for so long...and there's a reason I should keep chasing them.
But I think the chase should go on without you.
So this is goodbye, 2011.
I'm moving on to 2012, a year some say could be our last on earth. Whether or not it's true makes no difference to me because I've decided it's time for me to start living like it is.
It's time for me to just start living. Period.
I just can't do that with you.
Don't let the door bump your big, fat, lyin' behind on the way out.