I stare at my clock.
11:59.
Oh.
It's almost next year.
12:00.
Oh.
It's next year.
I walk out of my house and sit on my cold driveway, shivering.
In the distance, fireworks.
I sit outside, nobody there to sit out there with me except for shouts and fireworks.
I consider all the people sitting in their houses and smooching each other, blowing party blowers and popping open champagne bottles.
About ten minutes ago, I cracked open probably the third can of mineral water in the last hour. How special.
Last year wasn't a good year, I think to myself. This one will be better.
I ponder that thought and I realize that nothing changes. You still wake up the next morning, brush your teeth and go to school and come home.
Wake up.
Brush your teeth.
Go to school.
Go home.
365x.
The celebration is redundant.
You could try to improve your life style, but a new year is not a new you, sweetie.
Don't tell yourself anything different.
So instead of turning to a stunning boyfriend of mine and colliding into his face, or yelling "Happy New Year!!!", I instead muttered to myself, "It's a new year. Just like last year. You got through the last one, get through this one too."
After sitting outside in the 37˚ night (or morning) for about 20 minutes, I went back inside and warmed up in my bed and pressed play on my remote.
Wake up.
Brush your teeth.
Go to school.
Go home.
365x.
