Midnight ticks closer, and Stolas is writing his New Year's resolutions.

It feels pointless when his world has crashed down around him, but he's been watching a lot of SinTok while rotting away on the couch and melting into the reception desk, and people there recommend it. It's always beautiful succubi with perfect hair and shining skin. They are the epitome of everything Stolas is not: happy, healthy, loved. It only feels right to follow their advice and cling to some ounce of the control he has lost.

It is not the first time he has tried writing down his resolutions. In the past, it has felt like a means of seizing control: He could not escape his life, but he could carve out edges of happiness. Setting goals to find new, rare plants. Reading through books and finding new favorites. Practicing his art and writing as a form of escapism. Binge-watching the entire Hell-a-novela series up to date because, hey, that was time-consuming enough to feel like an achievement.

This year's goals feel less hedonistic.

1. Go to the plant nursery alone. Stepping outside of the apartment without Blitzø still spikes his anxiety. He has the senses to know when someone is about to throw something at him, but he lacks the self-preservation to prevent it. His feathers feel constantly damp and bedraggled from the number of showers he has needed to take.

2. Get a library card. Moxxie introduced him to the public library and let him check out a few books on his card. He misses owning books, surrounding himself in material comforts, being able to pluck favorite books off the shelf anytime he wants, but it is a start, and it is affordable. He suspects this will also require independent outings, too, as Blitzø does not seem to share his love of literature. Stolas has to stop himself from letting his anxiety overwhelm him and force him to cross it out.

3. Stop taking antidepressants. He debated writing it down. Logically, he knows now that he has a bottle back in his possession and Blitzø is aware of their existence, he will need to continue them. But he also knows that he does not deserve them, that Octavia is right, that taking them is evidence that he threw away everything for nothing.

4. Fill a journal. It is a direct apology to the previous resolution. Journaling helps clear his mind. If he does not take his medication, then he will care for his mental health through writing. Flawless. Sort of.

5. Octavia. It is not a resolution. It is not even a complete sentence to anyone but himself. He does not know yet whether it means finding a way to make things right (impossible) or forgetting her (even more impossible). He only knows that he is broken, broken, broken and that he will not be whole until he makes things right.

The sixth line remains blank because Stolas does not know how to phrase his desire. Every year of his adult life, he has carried the same goal: to be loved, to be desired, to be held and kissed and cuddled. It has changed form over the years. Sometimes, it is as simple as wanting someone who will sit at his side close enough that he can feel the warmth of their body, helping him to stave off the touch starvation for another year. Other times, it is as difficult and complex as wishing Blitzø would declare his love for him and offer to stay, only Stolas knows that he never had that level of control, that it was wrong to put that on someone else's shoulders, that he was only being delusional.

He is so fucking lonely, and he does not know how to fix it.