The First Winter From Hell - Age 21

Winter should be a time of merriment and joy; a time to reunite with family and reflect on what important in life. Those kinds of winters ended for me a long time ago. I dread the day when November rolls around because it means I’ve got about three months worth of holiday shopping, awkward parties and overdosing on sweets. Of course, some years are fine but I was never the same after what my friends affectionately and I un-affectionately call “The Winter From Hell.” Like most things that turn sour, it really could have been great! I had just turned twenty-one and I was ready for the more adult side of Yuletide joy. Unfortunately, the trio made it a year I can’t forget. At all.

I should specify that this is the First Winter From Hell. My friends managed to screw up the holidays multiple times, leaving me with a few mental scars in the process.