Tomorrow is the end. The end of 2015, anyways.
A large ball will drop in Times Square. I’ll probably be in the restroom and miss it. We’ll drink sparkling apple cider and then hop off to bed.
2016, it feels weird to write. I know until about April, I will be doing this number:
I wish I believed in new year resolutions and better things to come, but my heart is telling me it’s a bunch of gibberish stuffed down our throat.
I’ve promised myself that I will try to be kinder, more open, and intrepid. I will eventually crash and burn with this promise. I’m not kind, I’m the most layered person you’ll ever meet, and I’m as intrepid as a mouse (the scared mice, not the types in fairytales and cartoons).
On a different note though…
I have realized lately that I have been slacking on commenting and following people, which is really sad. Please send my your blog link and I will check it out. Because I REALLY do want to, it’s just I usually only have time to post and check my stats for an instant, and then I’m off. That sounds completely selfish.
Also, my writing competition only had two entries which makes it really easy to choose from, so I’ll be announcing the winner as soon as I get the chance.