It is a new year. My goals don't involve a dream house or future affluence. I still live with my parents. No job. Just college papers. Realistically, economic independence at 20 means I pray in vain for a pathetic raise every night. That's if my room mates come to the conclusion that belligerent midnight discourse and vomiting in a bedroom other than your own is unethical. The best part of my day is waking up because I can almost guarantee to being alone. Unless my stepfather is home. In which case I am still considered alone. Playing hearts on the computer doesn't require conversation. When my mother is home, she's either on the phone or cooking. At night, she watches every show on medicine to satisfy her inner failed doctor. While my step-dad, now before a solitaire computer-screen, takes a deep breath as he attempts to prioritize between opening the door for the cat or switching over to spider solitaire. What am I doing? I'm in my room sleeping unless there is someplace I really need to be.
New Years Resolution: Feign enthusiasm for life.
