Something about New Year's just kicks my depression into high gear. I don't know why; it could be a number of reasons. I didn't stay up all night, and I went to bed early because I didn't want to deal with all of the bull people usually say during New Year's. New Year's resolutions are doomed to fail, and the new year isn't going to get any better until we actively conciously change something. 'Tis the season of blind optimism, and I hate it. I'm not ready for the new year; it's going to bring new challenges, and I'm still not done with the old ones. Sorry about being pessimistic, New Year's just isn't really my forte. Who cares if the Earth went around the Sun again? What does it matter? It happens literally every year! Last night, I was feeling pretty depressed, and my dog came into my room and snuggled with me, and you know what? Maybe this year won't suck after all, because I'm surrounded by those who care. Happy New Year's 2026, another year of this crapshow, let's do it
