Goodbye and good riddance. 


You have been a brutal year. And unforgiving 365 days.


You took my cat. He wasn't A cat. He was THE cat.


You stole 2 of my other cats, just to twist the knife deeper. 


You killedBowie, Prince and Carrie Fisher. I DON'T EVEN LIKE STAR WARS and I cried when Carrie passed. Then you took her mother just for good measure. 


You gave me migraines and hormone problems. I may be diabetic. I may be premenopausal. You gifted me the stomach flu on December 24th at 2:30am, just so I couldn't enjoy watching my son open his presents. I am still too sick to spend more than a couple of hours out of bed.


I am over you, 16. So over you. I blame you for my laptop sucking and my van's alternator burning out. I'm surprised you didn't throw in a fatal car wreck just to round things out.


Oh, and don't get me started on the fact you gave us the first dictator since we were still under British rule.


Poof, begone, bitch.