Weeds.
It's the same every year. At least it feels the same. Bidding good riddance to the past year. Don't let the door hit you in the you-know-what. Bigger and better things are in store for me (hopefully). Then those promise filled days turn into frustrating weeks and disappointing months and depressing seasons. And those bigger and better things never come. And this time you're telling the year to kiss you in the you-know-what. Forget the door, you'll take care of it yourself. And the cycle continues. And I know that I'm just this jar of clay. This breakable, fragile, jar of mud. But aren't I supposed to be filled with this.... treasure ? This intangible, sustainable, fulfilling treasure? Because it doesn't feel like it most of the time. I don't feel treasure-filled. My jar is doubts and depression and anxiety and all that stuff I thought was supposed to be worked out in college like self esteem and insecurities. I...