Resolutions

     I sit in the bathtub in a strangers house, hiding from the party like I was hiding from a tornado. Or is it a hurricane? I know there's some natural disaster that calls for seeking shelter in the bathtub. Anyways the party might as well have been a natural disaster. One girl who probably wasn't even old enough to drink had already puked in the front yard and fallen asleep on a bench on the porch. It was loud, and rowdy, and raunchy, with drunk naked people making out and fighting and participating in various forms of debauchery. Really not my scene.
    I had allowed my best friend to drag me to yet another event full of strangers where she would inevitably run off with some guy leaving me to sip my poison in the quietest corner I could find. Last time I had seen her at this particular event she was ruining someone's game of pool with her ass while her face sucked the life out of some hot idiot whose hopes were up far too high. I knew I couldn't stay in the bathtub forever. The bathroom is a very popular room for drunks. I was savoring every moment of it that I could.
    Tonight was the last night of 2013. The year had gone by quickly and without many memorable moments. This time last year I was celebrating being single for the first time in years. This year I was just trying to forget that I was alone. There was a boy outside the bathroom who knocked a while ago to ask if I was okay. He cares about me, but he wasn't the kind of company I was craving.
    Every new year brings a ray of hope that even those with the worst of luck will look to in anticipation. I think I've learned that even on New Year's Eve, tomorrow will just be another day in the string of days that make up life. If you've been having a shitty time, your luck probably isn't going to change just because the human race has recognizes that a large amount of time has passed. A new year doesn't mean a new life, or new luck, or a new you, all it means is that the Earth has safely completed one more rotation around the sun. It's only a big deal if you think about all the ways in which life on Earth could have been extinguished in that time. As far as each individual person's life is concerned, a new year means nothing. Yet, I cannot count the number of times someone has asked tonight about someone else's New Year's resolution. As though the new year marks this moment in life where we can suddenly make these changes that we could have made all throughout the year but didn't have the motivation. Lose weight, get better grades, drink less, quit smoking, etc. These are all things these people should be doing anyways. Still, I contemplate my own resolution.
    I think I'd like to get in better shape. I'd like to stop letting my friend drag me to the torturous parties. I'd like to focus on school and my job and not worry so much about how far behind in my personal life plan I've fallen. I'd like to exercise my creativity more, so it doesn't get stiff when I finally find inspiration. I'd like to stop focusing on how big my void is and start focusing on filling it, and stop thinking a man is the only thing that can do so. Maybe I could get a cat. Of course, that's where it starts, and I'm far too young to become the crazy cat lady. My New Year's resolutions are the same as the resolutions I make every night in bed while I stare at the ceiling hating myself and my insomnia, much as I stare at the ceiling now. It's really gross. Moldy enough that I can see shapes, like I was looking at the clouds.
     I start as some stranger pounds on the door. "Hurry up man, I'm gonna piss myself!"
     I reluctantly stand, flush the toilet to reduce suspicion, and emerge from my sanctuary to allow the eloquent ho access to the toilet. The sound alone is enough to make my not-drunk-enough self dizzy. Then there was the influx of various inhalants attacking my asthmatic lungs. The boy who cared about me found me quickly and sweetly offered if I'd like to step out into the freezing yet fresh air. I nodded reluctantly.
     Not two minutes of silence passed before he asked me in the way most people do when trying to break a silence they feel is awkward, "So, what's your New Year's resolution?" I smiled, more to myself than to him and said "I need to think a moment, you first."
    He lit his cigarette and hopped up on the porch railing and said "I'm going to quit smoking."
    I laughed "wasn't that your resolution last year?"
    He nodded and smiled crookedly to reveal small-town-smoker teeth "and the year before." We laughed.
    Another moment passed and he prodded me to answer. I still couldn't think of anything good to say. "My resolution," I paused thoughtfully, "is to be a little different next year."
   He nodded slowly in a way that made me think he didn't quite understand, "that's a good one, just vague enough to work."
   I heard the countdown begin inside, as though every drunk ass at the party thought 2014 would be better.
    10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2!.....