2016

I’ve filled it up

The jar by my bed

Every time I felt

Happy in my head

I tore off a piece

Of a notebook near

Scribbled it down

For the whole damn year.

The jar is full

Of what I don’t know

When I look at the year

It feels quite slow

Low in achievement

In quantifiable ticks

In things I can point at

And say ‘Look I did it!’

If I look at the headlines

My stomach turns

Hatred normalised

This new world burns.

But I open up the jar

Anyway to see

Just what has happened

To little old me.

So you’re quite right

This year hasn’t been big

With grand accomplishments

But you can still take a swig

Of the glass in your hand

Because this year you’ve done grand

Small changes are the main thing

That better a man.

Sober for four weeks

Learnt to turn the other cheek

To those who take and don’t give

You stopped being so passive

You dealt with some things

That were making life tough

Talked to a lady who said

God you’re made of strong stuff.

You wrote about eating

And how it went sour

When you gave that lying

Mirror all the power

One thousand views

In only a week

But priceless was

That it made you speak

With others who suffered

And tragically so

With eating and being

Not perfect, you know.

You drank too much

To forget that you had

No schedule or to do list

To keep you feeling glad.

It seems every year

Again you learn

Being busy is better

Than letting sadness burn.

Pushed people away

Ran back to them again

Wallowed in pity

And then realised how pretty

Life is when you say

I’m done with today

Let go and trust in

The world we live in.

You can’t keep falling

And expect to be caught

By people who never

Said they’d catch you at all.

You’re blind to the ones

Who care for you most

But I think you’ve made progress

You know your worth, well, almost.

You treated yourself in Paris

Too many nights at Toast

Saw the Cursed Child

Spent a day by the coast.

Mostly this year

Is filled with bits

That friends made you laugh with

And isn’t that the absolute shit.

That’s what it’s about

Counting life by the laughs

You’re terrified of forgetting

So write them down fast.

You cartwheeled in a bush

Your friend hit the floor

She danced the walk home

She woke, her head was sore.

Walks in the woods

Driving in the city

Seeing Adele

Dressing up pretty.

Happy in Wales

And Happy in Surrey

The four hour drive

Is good if I don’t hurry

Friends, family and colleauges

Are always so glad

When I get back to either

They must be a bit mad

I don’t know how to say

Without sounding sappy

Wherever I am

I’m pretty fucking happy.

And that’s the main thing

From twenty sixteen

That I have two homes
A million friends in between.

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