Build myself up and get excited by telling myself how the new year means a new me.
Then as I sit alone, watching the 2017 fireworks on the BBC, get that cold, dark, depressing feeling and all those negative thoughts running through my head again about how ridiculous it all is. Just because a digit in the date has changed, doesn't mean my life will.
The gut-wrenching feeling as I try to resist the urge of having another bite of my pizza - because "2017!" - is one of the most vulgar feelings one can feel. Knowing that I've immediately failed my new healthy diet as I sit scoffing takeaway, kidding myself that "it doesn't count - it starts TOMORROW", knowing full well that 'tomorrow' never comes.
As I jump straight back into the gym after bloating myself over Christmas, knowing it doesn't matter how fast or how long I run, I'm going back home and treating myself to a big, fat chocolate cake and undoing any hard word I've done and I won't achieve the body I wish to have - just like every other year.
Knowing that as the firework display comes to an end, my time off work is over and it's back to a job I despise in 24 hours - a job that makes me feel ill.
And knowing that night, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I'll be crying myself to sleep about how scared of life I am, how I'm not strong enough to change my life, fooling myself into believing it's much easier to accept my life how it is, because I'm scared to fail so I will not try. How I always suppress my thoughts, feelings and ambitions and never act on them because I am weak.
The most depressing time of the year. I will never understand why people celebrate it. What are you celebrating? The disappointment you're about to endure? It's a massive anti-climax. All these parties building up the excitement all night long, then 10 seconds after midnight, everyone is over it. Never got it, never will get it.