I made a lot of promises to myself last January and broke almost all of them. I said I was going to put my goals first, that I was going to chase them, fight for them. And I haven’t. Chasing the thing you want is terrifying. If anyone tells you it isn’t hard than I don’t know what they’re selling but I’d please like some. As a chronic people pleaser who likes to be useful, it’s much easier to put others first. I’ve spent most of 2017 underneath the water, sunk into a malaise that I feel very responsible for. I don’t take enough risks. I don’t work hard enough. I sleep too much. I’m too sick. I waste time. I’m a talentless hack. Every aspect of my life feels tenuous and unstable: my career, my finances, my living situation, my art. Student loans threaten to end me. I can’t seem to actually make a decent salary with the constant uptick in all of our expenses. If only I could go without food. And time keeps getting away from me. To paraphrase Virginia Woolf: My kingdom for some cash, a few hours of time, and a room of my own.