By Emily Sherwell
in the new year I sip green tea and devour four-hundred page novels in a single sitting,
no doomscrolling breaks
in the new year I am limitless, I am full of potential
I am unburdened by the slimy black tar
of the last twenty-seven years or so
holding me back, slowing me down, dragging me under
2025 doesn’t exist anymore
neither does 1998
I write a list of resolutions
I check my list from last year
copy, paste
this year will be different
it always is
year of the horse, I hear
things will be different
they always are
in the new year I am shiny and clean, a cicada freshly burst from its shell
like my tar metaphor, it’s all behind me and forgotten in the new year
I clean my house, top to bottom
I organise my bookshelves, bottom to top
I gua sha my face from top to bottom, and then bottom to top
(I don’t remember buying a gua sha)
I moisturise my whole body after showering
I’m determined and sexy and confident
I go to the gym and I enjoy it
life is constant ovulation in 2026
2025 is a distant memory
I have a mind full of stories and a heart full of poems
2026 will grant me the talent to write them and write them well
I organise my desk and I buy a new journal
life is a lottery and I’ve just won the twenty mil
february hits and the money runs dry
I’ve overspent and become accustomed
to my new lavish lifestyle
I expect too much, I do too little
maybe next year,
I’m rooting for you, 2027
goats are better than horses anyway
This piece was featured in the 2026 summer edition of Glass Magazine
