The notebook was tucked away but was within easy reach.
I reached for it, buzzing with the anticipation and euphoria that only comes at the start of a new year.
My pen flew across the page. Goal after goal. Dream after dream. Setting out clearly and passionately how I wanted to evolve over the next year.
It was beautiful.
Satiated, I lay back on my pillow, closed my eyes and allowed that bubble of excitement to form enticing images in my mind.
This was going to be my year.
The year it all came together.
It was then I decided to flip back through the pages of my now virtually full notebook.
The dawning of reality was akin to the soaking the neighbourhood kids decided to give me way back, when they jumped out on me on my way home and soaked me in some disgusting cold concoction that included guinea pig poo and itching powder!
I'd done this before.
Many many times.
Almost word for word.
Year after year.
The dreams. The goals. All written with the same enthusiasm, but ...