2024, Please Save My Pillow.

2024 waved its huge arms at me as mine remained folded. Yet, I had no option but to step into it. I could not afford to be swept away by the rivers of 2023.

Mother would be mad if that happened, given that I am her only daughter. I am the only one she can share her girly gists and conversations with.

My brothers—three troublesome and annoying ones—would not understand a dime of what she was saying, no matter how many times she tried to have her conversations with them.

As I carefully made my way towards the open 2024, one leg in and one leg hanging outside, standing just at the threshold of the year and staring at it with all my fear and trepidation shooting from my eyes, I quietly whispered,

"2024, please don't let me sink my pillows into the rivers of my tears. Please. Just that one thing is what I wish for."