Every year, in February, I mean to say it.


Every year I forget.


I looked around the other day, and I realized they were gone.

The words.

I wanted them back.

I would crawl through hell and drown myself in vomit to get them back.

Give me back, I want to scream.

I’m out of words.

But I am words.

I want February back.

I want the ability to look forward to an event I’d forget.

Year, after year, for many years.

Just knowing I could do it was enough! Just knowing the words were there was enough!

… But I never did, and now they’ve gone.