When I was around nine years old, I spent New Year's Eve with my parents, as usual. For some reason, I was determined to make this New Year's Eve better than all the others. I spent all day making confetti (aka putting construction paper through my shredder and dumping the remains into a bag), begged my mom to buy me those cheesy 2006 glasses, and choreographed a dance number to perform for my parents when the ball dropped. I played one song on repeat from 11:00 p.m. until about five minutes before midnight because I wanted the last song I listened to in 2005 to be special.
My big moment came soon. My parents and I counted backwards from ten and screamed "Happy New Year!" I broke into my dance and threw confetti everywhere. I watched everyone in Times Square on television screaming and hugging. Then, my parents kissed me goodnight and went to bed, leaving me to clean up my confetti and go to sleep.
It all seemed so underwhelming. I was left trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of going into a new year. We were only celebrating the Earth completing another rotation. Really, January 1st was just the day after December 31st.
Eventually, I started dating someone who loved New Year's Eve. I went to his house with some of his friends, we played Cards Against Humanity, counted down, watched the ball drop, and that was it. It was like every other New Year's Eve, except this time I had someone to kiss. We did that for two more years, and I never understood why he loved the holiday, if you would like to consider it one. One year, we even got into a really big fight about an hour into the new year.
People seem to love New Year's because a new year means a new beginning. I tend to disagree. Everyone makes resolutions to go to the gym this year or to eat healthier, but I never understood why you can't do that on any other day. I could easily get a gym membership in the middle of July without an issue. Why do people need to wait for a new year to begin to better themselves?
I thought maybe this New Year's Eve would be different because 2015 was a really rough year for me, and I was excited to leave it behind. Once again, the ball dropped, my family screamed "Happy New Year!" and I kissed my aunt's dog. An hour later, we sat around her table eating cake and trying not to fall asleep. Sure, 2015 was over, but why did I need to wait until the clock struck twelve to finally start to move on?
My grandparents came over for dinner on New Year's Day, and it was just like any other dinner. A lot of my friends got drunk at parties that were just like any other they would go to during a normal weekend. I guess a new year is an excuse to drink, but to be honest, I think it's a pretty bad one.
This year I wondered why I just didn't stay home if I hate New Year's Eve this much. I guess it's because every year I'm hoping for it to get better. Maybe one year I'll be with someone I love enough that I'll actually enjoy it, or maybe I'll be so drunk I won't even realize that the ball dropped. I'll keep trying, but I don't think New Year's Eve will ever be for me.
