AKA The Year That Couldn’t Stop Giving
2016 just doesn’t know when to stop giving.
2016 is like that relative whose house you go to for dinner, and they won’t stop putting food on your plate even though you barely choked your way through the last pile of mush devoid of any and all seasoning.
2016 is like that moment when you step out of the shower and your foot slips a bit, you know that weird falling feeling you get? It’s that, but permanent. Permanent shower slipping.
2016 is the guy at the Pizza Hut salad bar who uses the same ladle for all of the dressings, but somehow gets some on the croutons as well and makes them soggy.
2016 is your neighbour from first year halls who complained about the noise even though every other flat was also having pres.
2016 is a lego brick to the bare foot of humanity. It’s a coffee table corner meeting a shin, an undone lace, a frozen puddle, a comedy banana peel at the top of a flight of stairs covered with spikes.
2016 is the boulder from Raiders of the Lost Ark.
2016 is a million kicks to the crotch that all strike the sweet spot for maximum pain
2016 is the kind of year to be a public masturbator, a locker room peeping tom, a drunk guy outside Wetherspoons on a rainy night trying to convince his girlfriend that he’s sober.
2016 is single ply toilet roll.
2016 is store brand baked beans.
2016 is a loose thread on a sweater that unravels the whole thing when you thought it was just a bit frayed
2016 is a landmine, left buried, stepped on by an unsuspecting child
2016 is the start of the clock turning backwards
2016 is introverted, insular, indignant, inconceivable, insane
2016 is the year people proved once and for all that they are weak, and afraid, unable to sustain peace, unable to tolerate differences, misinformed, unwilling to think, segregated, isolated, easily instigated, braindead sons of bitches who have and always will put themselves first.
2016, is a mirror.
2016 showed us ourselves at our worst and some happened to like what they saw.
More than we thought.
But there’s always next year.