Monday mornings are the most dreaded, yet I have absolutely nothing to do all day.
I'm sick, so my New Year's will be me in bed.
Cameron and Max insist they'd like to come over so I don't have to be alone, but I'm still going to call my boy at midnight.
To interrupt the conversations.

Conversations of what I would say to my sixteen year old self if I could go back that many years.
I'd tell them I wouldn't do anything. I would fix her hair and offer no advice.
Not because there is nothing to say - I could say "Don't lose your virginity in a public bathroom" or "Go to class!" or "You'll be fine, you'll be happier with somebody else in the future".
But the issue is, my sixteen year old self would not listen to me.
She would kiss harder, never go to class and weep longer over people who don't really make a difference.
Because that's who I am.

So, Happy New Year.
Ninty percent of you have stuck by me through the thick and thins, and I appreciate it more than you know.
For those who have just became friends, we'll celebrate this next year. Call it a date?