A Snarky Prose

It just had to be that time of year again. The time that you were practically required to spend with your family. The time that you pretended you got along with them. It was the time of year where you stuff your face at the parties, for lack of anything better to. And then when you stepped on the scale after it was all over, you’d curse at yourself, saying that you wouldn’t let this happen again. But it always did. Oh, and it’s also the time of year when all good television was in a vicious loop of reruns. Which just all around sucked for everyone.

See, that brief description up there might not be you, but it sure hell is me. I hate the holiday season, especially New Year's. Christmas isn’t half bad, except it’s just a total excuse the economy made to tell people to spend money. And tricking little kids into believing there’s a Santa Claus? I personally was never thrilled at the thought of a huge overweight man in a red suit coming into my house. Um, pedophile alert. But that whole Santa thing really crushed some kids.

I look out the window of my studio apartment with a beautiful view of New York City. I have the best view of Central Park out of everyone I know. Right now, it’s covered in a white blanket of snow. Even though snow’s pretty high up on my most despicable things list, I can’t help but admire the view. Sure, it’s a bitch to drive in. But at least it’s pretty.

Limousines have been driving past all day. Considering it’s New Years Eve, Times Square is a madhouse. Celebrities are pouring in from all over for Dick Clark’s annual bash. And there are crazy people who wait in line for days to see this thing. Um, are you mad? I can hear everything right here. And I’m not talking about turning on the TV and watching it. Yeah, it’s that loud.

I can never understand what’s so great about the new year. And if I get that it’s-a-fresh-start-and-a-chance-to-start-over bullshit one more time, I’m going to punch someone in the face.

Because let’s be honest, a new year means one thing, and one thing only. Sure it’s one more year of life. But it’s also one year closer to death. Maybe I’m being slightly morbid here, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought that before.

And what if I don’t want to move on? Maybe this year is the best year of my life. Who says I have to let it go and “start fresh”?

Or maybe I lost everything this year, but I still don’t want to let it go. Maybe I don’t want to let go of him. Maybe my world was perfect until he was gone. Maybe he was more than just a high school crush-turned-sweetheart. Maybe we would’ve been together forever.

But I’ll never know.

Screw the New Year. I can’t let him go.

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This piece is titled, "Not A Winter Wonderland" and it's a piece I entered in a contest on Figment. I didn't put this up for the votes (though they would be nice!) but because it was a quick little write-up inspired by a prompt that basically just said "write a five hundred word piece about New Year's using the word crush."

It's really fun to write snarky. When in doubt, go that route. :P

If you have any suggestions for the piece, please comment below!
Or if you like it enough to vote for it on figment, click here.

Thanks everyone!

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