On toughening up and wussing out.
Oh, the "Holidays". How do you manage to destroy me every year?
I've always found the "Holidays" to be depressing, for as long as I can remember. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years are always not what I expect and my lack of...things just emphasizes that. Last year was pretty good, but somehow, mid-November, I dream up this idea that TV is real and I am somehow missing out on what the "Holidays" really are. I lied to myself this year, thinking that if I got all my shopping finished early, I'd be able to enjoy the season. However, relaxation and hot chocolate throughout the month of December does not make me six years old again, nor does it erase or make up for the fact that my family is not what it was, that I think money equals love (when it comes to buying for, not receiving from), and that my father, who simply WAS Christmas, is in the ground and will never return to re-create Whoville for his 24-year old daughter, who, for some reason, desperately needs it.
I teared up at work, thinking about how our house was decorated. Lights everywhere, on everything and little Santas and reindeer and snowmen always in your face. How Thanksgiving wasn't boring and simply relaxing and fun and...well, to be honest, I've never been that fussed about New Years. It's just more resolutions for me to break.
Everything feels so grown up. Everyone IS so grown up. I have a nephew. My friends are getting married. I'm moving away. Not far, but away.
Everything seems so different. But in my brain, it's always the same.
I've always found the "Holidays" to be depressing, for as long as I can remember. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years are always not what I expect and my lack of...things just emphasizes that. Last year was pretty good, but somehow, mid-November, I dream up this idea that TV is real and I am somehow missing out on what the "Holidays" really are. I lied to myself this year, thinking that if I got all my shopping finished early, I'd be able to enjoy the season. However, relaxation and hot chocolate throughout the month of December does not make me six years old again, nor does it erase or make up for the fact that my family is not what it was, that I think money equals love (when it comes to buying for, not receiving from), and that my father, who simply WAS Christmas, is in the ground and will never return to re-create Whoville for his 24-year old daughter, who, for some reason, desperately needs it.
I teared up at work, thinking about how our house was decorated. Lights everywhere, on everything and little Santas and reindeer and snowmen always in your face. How Thanksgiving wasn't boring and simply relaxing and fun and...well, to be honest, I've never been that fussed about New Years. It's just more resolutions for me to break.
Everything feels so grown up. Everyone IS so grown up. I have a nephew. My friends are getting married. I'm moving away. Not far, but away.
Everything seems so different. But in my brain, it's always the same.