“Please, I’m Begging You, Don’t Pin Your Hopes & Dreams on Me” by 2022

Do not — under any circumstances — hold my beer

The new year is right around the corner and you know what that means — somehow you think everything is going to change. Well guess what? It’s not. I mean, it might, what do I know? But then again we might be headed into another lockdown. Long story short: don’t be coming back here in twelve months saying I sucked or I let you down. Is my name Jeff Bezos? Then none of this shit is my fault. FFS, I’m not even here yet.

I’m also just a calendar, a trip around the sun, a made up measurement to give your fleeting time on this Earth the illusion of meaning. What does 2022 even mean? It’s just a made up number. Why not say it’s 4,321,092? Or pasta? Yes, it’s Mostaccioli next week. That makes about as much logical sense as 2022. And I know what you’re thinking, that’s just the self-loathing talking. But it’s not. Well, maybe a little — God, years that end in 2 are never cool — but mostly not. Listen to me loud and clear: I’m not going to magically change your life…I’m not an essential oil. Please, I’m begging you, stop putting so much pressure on me. And stop trying to get me to use tea tree oil, Barbara!

Remember December 2019? Hmmm? Remember how you couldn’t wait to get out of there and jump straight…