New Year, Same Fear

As I lie in bed, with the duvet swaddling me, the heating set to ‘cosy’ and the smell of freshly washed sheets in the air. I tell myself:
“This. Is. It!”
I think I’ve cracked it. Whatever ‘it’ is. Midnight is hours away, I am partied out... tired out... settling down...
...
...

Shit. ‘This. Is. It!’ I’ve not cracked it, I’ve cracked.

Good evening and good morning to you, Sunday night dread, old friend. You have arrived, though I’m not convinced that you ever left, and I’m not sure how you’ve done it — it’s a Tuesday for crying out loud!

That’s me too, by the way, crying out loud.

The duvet, once swaddling, is now suffocating me, the heating set to ‘wanna wake up in the early hours drenched in your own sweat?!’ and it’s now way past midnight...

Flashbacks, backlash — you name it and I’ll suffer it, worry about it. What have I done? What will I do?
WhenwillthisendandhowcouldIhavepossiblyeverdecidedthattomorrowwasever-
goingtobeok?!
...
...

Waking to the sound of my alarm, I could sleep indefinitely. Except, I can’t... definitely.

Oh well, it’s a new day, a new year. It can’t be all that bad... can it?