I don’t know about you, but this year has felt like a complete slog. Seriously, January feels like it was in another lifetime. Remember the entire Kim Kardashian and Pete Davidson fiasco thing? January. That is crazy! This year felt so long.

I actually do look forward to the end of the year. I love winter everything. Christmas everything (pumpkin spice and gingerbread and cinnamon) and snow. Hot take (cold take?) but I love snow. I know it causes a headache for drivers, but looking at the stuff just brings me joy. I mean, come on! Have you ever just looked at freshly fallen snow in the morning, all white and pristine? Don’t tell me some part of your barren heart doesn’t feel a little happy.

I’m scared for new things to happen. The beginning of each year brings with it a plethora of uncertainties, filled with anxiety. Will I get into a “good” college (shameless plug for my last article)? Will I find my new favorite food? What will happen in the third season of Yellowjackets?

Anyway, I realize this is a slightly cliché topic. But it’s one that is extremely topical, and one that elicits thought every time December comes.

I love new years. I hate new years. I love and hate new years, all at the same time.