Happy new year, they will all say in the coming hours.

But what does that mean anyway?

It's that time of the year when people prescribe their admittedly rudimentary ideas for being happy, because it's that time of the year when we're supposed to look back at the last twelve months - an arbitrary signpost in an existence filled with arbitrary signposts.

Take on new challenges and opportunities.

Count your blessings.

Appreciate the small things.

Let go of past hurts.

Embrace everything that's new and good.

Wake up thankful.

Be grateful for everything.

Yes, it's the annoying sort of advice, but then, I did say "admittedly rudimentary". Do we really look back at the year that was on the 31st day of December? Me, I'm busy making playlists, perhaps doing a spot of cooking - I've apparently perfected mashed potatoes - and, well, doing these yearend essays. My life revolves around those arbitrary signposts too, after all; I'm not better than anybody else. Also, how else can you tell if you're actually getting to some point in your life, rather than just being stuck?

Take on new challenges and opportunities. Don't say no as much as possible.

Count your blessings. Think hard. There are blessings.

Appreciate the small things. I'm telling you, they're there.

Let go of past hurts. She does not care about you. Why do you care about her so much?

Embrace everything that's new and good. Move on, dude. She does not care about you.

Wake up thankful. God damn it. You're fucking alive!

Be grateful for everything. Fucking hell, what are you?

It's not fun, being told that, above everything else, despite everything else, you should be happy - that there are reasons to be happy, that there always are reasons to be happy, that, somehow, tapping through that energy is enough to turn the shittiest of time periods surrounded by arbitrary signposts around. Like, for appearance's sake, suddenly, what just passed wasn't so terrible. Now we can look up and be grateful, even if, really, there's nothing to be grateful about, because all this is arbitrary. All this is rudimentary. All this means nothing in the long run. Well, except for impressions of happiness, of being strong, or being a survivor amidst what really is bullshit masquerading as an inhabitable planet.

Everybody imposes their beliefs on others, so I'll do something similar, but something less rudimentary this time.

Don't force yourself.

When you think everything is shitty, it likely is.

Don't aim for the impossible.

Don't keep your frustrations in.

Fill yourself with discontent.

If necessary, be lazy.

Don't be happy.

Well, if there are reasons to be happy, be happy. But don't force yourself to be happy. Don't force yourself to be happy for longer than you're ought to be. Don't force yourself to be happy because everybody else says so. Happiness is just another arbitrary signpost, after all, the definitions changing with every person, the forcefulness of the implied message stronger than ever before: keep quiet if things aren't going well, and don't you ever dare pop my bubble.

When there's hope, keep going. When there isn't, so be it. Don't let their rudimentary stocktaking invalidate everything you see.