Womp womp womp. This is an emo post, FYI.
I hate New Years. With a deep and fiery passion that is seeded in the core my being. It’s my least favorite holiday, by a LONG shot. Leagues and leagues more than Valentine’s Day. 1. NYE, 2. FOJ, 3. VD. That’s right, I hate the 4th of July more than Valentine’s Day. We can talk about why I hate FOJ when we get to the summer. This post is about why NYE makes me borderline suicidal.
As far as I can remember, my NYEs have consisted of: not getting invited to anything cool, feeling sorry for myself, sitting at home eating ice cream and watching reruns on Nickelodeon. It’s like a normal night, is what I’m saying. Only it’s not…
At about 1am, when I realize it’s already the new year, I get really depressed and sad. I usually end up writing some crazy emotional, forever alone themed entry in my journal. [Ironically, if you look at all my journal entries (which are all sad and angsty), they happen about the same time of the month…]
There are recurring themes.
I’ve always been single on New Years. Let’s face it, I’ve been single most of my life… Not only that, but for the better portion of my life, every major friend I’ve had has been in a serious relationship with someone else. I feel like NYE is even more of a coupley holiday than Valentine’s. It’s about excitement and romance and bold moves and new ideas and being better and growth and reflection and drinking and sparkles and music and anticipation and being able to look over at another person when the clock strikes midnight to share that moment with them. Which is why I just stay on my couch and watch The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Nothing exciting has ever happened to me. No one has ever surprised me, declared their love for me, ambush kissed me, even asked about me on NYE. (Mass texts don’t count.) I have big romantic expectations that end up crushing me year after year.
Nothing really changes. It’s like having a birthday. Nothing happens from one day to the next, it’s the summation of multiple years that make a difference. But somehow, you’re supposed to feel different in the blink of an eye. It’s disappointing, and it always makes me sad. It makes me sad to think about how I was in the exact same place one year ago, feeling and thinking the same things. I know it’s a self-perpetuating cycle, but I don’t know how to break it. I always feel doomed to being alone. My life in the context of New Years is depressing, even though I know that objectively on any other day, I have a bombass, blessed, badass, ballin’ life.
Here’s the silver lining:
1. December 31 is the anniversary of the day that I got my cat, Toota. We will be celebrating one blissful year together. Looking back on it, I don’t think it was an accident that I got her on NYE. It was probably an act of lonely desperation aggravated by this loathsome “holiday,” especially after everything I went through last year. But I’m so happy with her that it doesn’t even matter.
2. This year, I’m sort of a part of a Sketch/Improv Comedy New Year’s Eve show at DCH. I’m organizing the backstage aspect, which means that I’ll be busy and even though I have stupid imaginary expectations of dumb things I fantasize about happening, at least I’ll be out of my house around other people who (usually) make me laugh.
Here’s to hoping this NYE won’t kill me.