Forgive me if I’m a little quick to usher out the year that was 2025. Does anyone really think this was a good year? And what kind of fucked-up person are you if this was your idea of good? Check yourself and your beliefs. Emotionally exhausted, mentally spent, and physically older than I’ve ever been in my entire fucking life, I am hurtling toward the calendar’s finish line as fast as I can. There’s still enough time to stumble wildly and fall, and I reserve that right straight through the entire next year. Add it to my list of faltering and fumbling – no need to check it twice.
Don’t anyone dare ask what mischief might be made in less than a week lefty because OMG how quickly and easily will I show you. A challenge, a threat, and a promise all in one – my bread and butter, my creme brulee, my fancy feast, my what the hell am I even writing anymore? This crazy-ass post has been brought to you by the letter ‘A’ and all the fucking madness of the previous year.
