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Oh, 2012.

I will write about you, one day, when enough time has passed, when I have detached myself enough from the wake of your tumult - because if I try to force it now, it will only end up with words desperately trying to make sense of feelings that are yet to settle. You have been happy and sad in many ways, in varying degrees, some moments heftier than others, but mostly just really difficult. And while there are many things to be thankful for (like all the fantastic, beautiful friends I've met, gained, and found again), I cannot lie through my teeth and tell everyone that you have been a welcome change to my life. Because the truth of the matter is, I'm not yet there - I don't think I'm at that point where I can be completely objective about you and say, without hesitation, that you have actually been wonderful in your entirety, a blessing in disguise. Maybe six months, a year, ten years from now, you will be. But right now, I don't believe that yet. Not even on the brink of the first day of the new year, I don't.

Instead, I'll wear a polka-dot top and a red skirt, in a jocular-but-actually-kind-of-desperate attempt to attract good vibes or good fortune (or both) for the coming year. Because there's nothing else to do at this point but hope for the best - and try to look pretty in the process. 

Nowhere to go but up, right.

So, to you 2012, I just want to tell you what I've been meaning to say for the last six months of my life. Good riddance. I can't wait to finally get rid of you.