Please Don’t Come What May

The thing I hate most about New Years Eve is the stroke of midnight. We all laugh, embrace, and then we give that one big kiss to our loved one. It’s only a split second of group euphoria, but it’s that second that stings when you realize you’re the only one in the room with no one to kiss. Again. For the 30th year in a row. I wonder what it’s like. To share the beginning and end of a year intimately with someone. To be able to share your life with someone.

I’ve had a sick feeling in my stomach ever since seeing the picture of my ex locking lips with another man. I can be happy for other people, but I can’t seem to be happy for myself. The mental image and the animated followup that ensues is adulterous to say the least. And every time that movie plays out in my mind, a hand grips my stomach and twists it, over and over again. In the past 48 hours, I’ve consumed a yogurt, a persimmon, a hard-boiled egg, a slice of cheese, a piece of lamb, and a slice of turkey lunch meat. I know if I have to take in anything more I’ll vomit. The upside to anorexia is my abs look great. This is how I’ll start 2015 – not with a bang, but with a whimper.

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