To get it out of the way, I’d like to begin by saying. I hate New Year’s Eve. Let alone the resolutions that the people make out of it. I hate the over-excitement towards seeing the clock tick from 11:59 to 12, like that doesn’t happen every day. I also hate the pressure of having “New Year’s plans.” As if it’s almost criminal to be sitting at home and rewatching the same show you’ve been watching for the past 364 days. But above all, I think I hate the uncertainty of not knowing what good the new year is going to bring for you. Now, don’t get me wrong, I mean absolutely no hate whatsoever towards those who enjoy resolutions; it is just that my low tolerance for the “new year, new me” optimism does not let me feel the same.
Looking back, there hasn’t been a single successful 31st of December that has gone my way. Let that be last year, when I got locked in the bathroom during the countdown, Or the year before that, when I was in bed with a fever, Or the year before, when I crashed and slept by eleven. From the moment that my young brain could comprehend festivals or events, New Year’s had been the hardest to understand. Here I am, a 19-year-old, and nothing has changed. I’m still the confused child who doesn’t know what to do after you’ve hugged those around you and wished them a happy New Year.
What happens after the clock strikes twelve? What happens to those who spend the entirety of their day cooking for a New Year’s party that they’ve decided to host? For those who excitedly choose an outfit to wear for a party they’ve been looking forward to? And for those who truly hold a strong passion for this day and wholeheartedly believe that this day is magical? It’s almost as if a year full of hard work, pain, tears, and memories only gets recognised during a ten-second countdown, after which you’re back to hustling and bustling again, making new workout routines, travel plans, and promises. And it’s only with time that you realise that after a point you’re just lying to yourself. You know you aren’t waking up at 7 am on a weekend when you could just be sleeping comfortably with 5 pillows beside you.
However, I know not all resolutions are early mornings and green juices, and instead are some real achievements that people wish to achieve or real problems that they hope to overcome, and to that I nod in agreement. All I’m trying to say is that self-improvement isn’t confined to a date on the calendar, and I would much rather have multiple tries at messing something up and getting better at it gradually than experiencing the pressure of having to one-up myself year after year. So maybe my New Year’s resolution for this year is to start liking New Year’s in the first place? Sounds like a decent place to start.