January is a time of year for chancers. For those who like to gamble. The opportunists.

It’s all about the hustle. New Year’s Resolutions are a con, and you’re the mark.

Do we imagine that we can change? That we will be punctual.

That we will learn French. That we will cut back on alcohol, and working late, and bring more balance into our lives.

Of course we do. We know we are capable. We know we have it in us. We just need to dig deep. We need all the positive affirmations X Factor contestants make.

The magic of Christmas has passed, but we still need to believe. Oh yes, January is for the liars. The beautiful, optimistic liars.

I love the sea of lies that drench New Year.

The feeling of hopeful sand between my toes. The coercive screech of life-changing magazine articles, self-help books, and social media hashtag gangs, gulls circling around us.

The sound of resolutions breaking like waves on the shore. Take me to the promising beach, I’ll pose with my ice cream of delusion.

My school teacher used to say God loves a trier. But don’t we all?

The struggling underdog, giving it their best shot. That’s what we all become in January.

We’ve taken stock of the past year and we’ve learned from it.

Times have been hard and dark and disappointing, and yet we’ve come out fighting. Every resolution is a flag in the ground of a better future.

So keep spinning yourself tales, keep tricking yourself into keeping on keeping on, because among the shards of broken promises and failed attempts, shine the whole bright wonderfulness of those who did it anyway.

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