Here’s to becoming a menace to our enemies this year.

Here’s to being tired and scared and DOING THE JOB ANYWAY.

Here’s to remembering nobody wants “she was very well-rested” on their motherfucking tombstone.

Here’s to saving who’s in front of us, who we can, and if all that means is saving ourselves here’s to that being enough.

Here’s to saving each other.

Here’s to reminding ’em they ain’t killed us yet.

Here’s to standing our punishment like men and women, and giving some back.

Here’s to the art that kept us alive and the money that kept us alive and the medication that kept us alive and the stories that kept us alive.

Here’s to this campfire, this hollow, this home, that you build with your words every day.

Here’s to showing our scars, not our medals. Here’s to scraping our lives dry for each other. Here’s to sleepless nights and thin morning light and the last drop of gas in the tank.

We’re not in this for peace, assholes.

Quo vadimus. Can’t stop the signal. Get it done.

What do you hear?

Nothin’ but the rain.

A.