Dear New Years Eve,

I think I'm going to offically stop trying to enjoy you, New Years Eve. Everysinglefuckingtime I try, I do not suceed. Perhaps this year was the final caveat. I had one, ONE really great New Years - if your definition of "great" is loosing your virginity to someone who will break your heart 6 months later by saying "I can't marry you".

Oh, I can't even count all the years I spent unhappy and completely sober on New Years. Several were of my own design and in high school. The ones during college usually occured during break, where there would be one or two people around to enjoy it with me.

Then I had my watershed New Years Eve moment this year. Naturally, I thought I was not drunk enough. So I continued to drink. Then I started to cry. After the crying, came the puking. If I had not been on my side, I'm fairly confident I would have choked on my own vomit. Oh, did I mention I was in a dear friend's bed? Because I was. Did I mention the crying?

I'll never live this one down. So thank you so fucking much New Years Eve. I've got your noisemaker right here.

love,
me