When my book twin Kristen posts something this fun, there's no doubt I'm stealing it with no shame. Sure, I'll put a little spin on it, but still... stealing. So I present to you, my end of the year letters.
Dear Blog, you've been through so much this year. I've moved you, renamed you, and redesigned you to no end. Then I promptly neglected you. I'll do better I promise.
Dear Blog Friends, despite my neglectful ways, so many of you have continued to read the rubbish I post on here and comment anyways. You are the best, I don't deserve you, but I'll try to next year.
Dear Goodreads Reading Challenge, I missed you by 10 this year. But I read 8 of my 40 these last 3 weeks, so that's gotta count for something, right?
Dear Books, I love you always and forever. You should reward said love by being free and finding a way to magically fit into my bookcase.
Dear Bookstagram, why did you not exist like 10 years ago? Where were you during my dejected childhood when my head was constantly in a book and that made me decidedly uncool?
Dear New York Sports Club, I've been neglecting you for a little while now. Is that why you've been viciously taking an insane amount of money from me monthly? I'll be back, I promise. If I get any bigger, I won't fit in my apartment.
Dear Teeny Tiny Shoebox of an Apartment, poor you. I can't remember the last time I gave you a decent scrub down instead of the quick pick-me-up. I hope to remedy that before the new year.
Dear Blacklist, why can't you just admit that Reddington is Elizabeth's father already? I mean, I know, you know it, hell, Elizabeth knows it. Stop playing hard to get.
Dear Me , we went through quite a time for the past few years, didn't we? I didn't always love you as I should have. Don't give up on me, I'm working on it.
Dear New Year, get ready. I've got big plans for you.