It felt as though there was something

wrong with me. I had become a refugee

from responsibility. All motivation had

deserted me like toothpaste being

squeezed from the tube. I was confused,

I couldn’t tell if I was smoking pot

because I was lazy, or lazy because

I was smoking pot.

 

I stopped going out unless it was

absolutely necessary, very often

just to get toilet roll or something

in for tea. Idly flicking through

the channels on the telly, I was

bombarded with adverts telling me

to sell my old phones and all my

unwanted gold, even though I didn’t

have any.

 

But this year, I swore things would be different.

this year my time would be spent grabbing

life by the throat, not jabbing the remote

while sitting on the settee. It would

be a time of great possibility, pursuing

all the opportunities that were going

to be presented to me.

 

Yes,

this would be the year when things

finally happened, when my grip on

procrastination slackened, when

thoughts of the future would inspire,

when I would wake up in the morning and not

be tired. This would be the year to go that extra mile,

or at least it will be, once I finish watching

Jeremy Kyle.