I’m going to make it through this year if it kills me.

Take a line from a song that you love or connect with. Now forget the song, and turn that line into the title or inspiration for your post.

Pulling my feet through the sludge, I don’t know that it is possible for my boots to get any heavier.  My bag follow behind them through the muck and my hair has a ten foot radius of frizz around it as the rain blinds most of my vision.  Why no one decided to make windshield wipers for glasses, I’ll never understand.    I see a near by ledge and run under it.  I pull out my notebook from my bag and write, “# 75 Wipers for glasses.”  

Don’t ask me why I write down my ideas when I don’t act on them. Maybe I just want to have proof that I had the idea first so when someone makes it and becomes a billionaire, I can cry about how it should have been me.  

I flip to the back of the book where a flyer is taped.  “December 3rd! Meet the Author!” A glimmer of hope rises in my chest.

A car speeds past me, splashing the muck and slime from the puddle all over me and my notebook and I’m immediately reminded that it is only March.  I don’t care if I get to the meet and greet to simply breathe my last breath, but I swear, I will make it there.