The Gap
by Maai
· 08/02/2026
Published 08/02/2026 15:13
I promised myself on January 1st,
said the words out loud like they'd stick,
like I was the kind of person who follows through,
who doesn't give up by mid-February.
The gym clothes are still in a bag,
tags attached like little accusations.
The book sits on my nightstand,
the same page since January 15th,
the bookmark long abandoned.
My mother called last Sunday.
"You said you'd call on Sundays,"
she said in that voice that means
she's been counting the days I didn't.
I scrolled instead.
God, how I scrolled.
The phone is warm in my hand now,
my thumb knows the path,
the familiar route down and down,
while my New Year's self watches
from some unreachable place
in early January
when I believed I was different,
when I believed I could be the person
who keeps promises,
who shows up,
who writes,
who reads,
who calls home.
It's February 17th.
I'm not that person.
I'm never that person.