It is 9:18 on New Years Eve

And I am sitting alone in my apartment, having just watched the movie Stranger Than Fiction and consumed the worlds worst bowl of popcorn, two glasses of water so over run with calcium that the little white specks nearly hurt when swallowed, and the last Reese's Christmas Tree in my house.

I did have plans, but as seems to be my luck, those plans were canceled. It's all horribly depressing- having been excited about the prospect of actually having something to do this year, of being able to see the year off with a bang, of the opportunity to 'begin as you intend to go forward' as it were. Now sitting here alone, while all of my friends are off doing something- even if that something is nothing more than watching the ball drop with their children and spouses- I am having a very difficult time of looking kindly on the coming year.

Or even on the coming few months.

There are worries I can't shake, bothersome questions about life, the universe and everything that I have yet to find the answers to, and a whole list of insecurities and failings that plague my mind with those unconscionable 'What If's. This is proving to be a spectacularly stressful New Year and I can barely muster the enthusiasm to see the night through to the dawning of the new year.

Perhaps I will just go write some very drab and depressing story, top it off with poorly written fanfiction, and go to bed early.

Then, perhaps, I shall make one last valiant effort to 'begin as I intend to go forward', call everyone I know and wish them a Happy New Year in sincerity before slipping into bed with a happy sigh.

But I doubt it.