It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any kind of emotion at this time of year. I don’t actually recognize the reason. I can’t think of anything that made me hate or despise this part of the year, but the only thing that comes to mind when December hits is: “Please, Universe, make January come tomorrow,” so I don’t have to dress up, put on makeup, and pretend to be happy when I’m not. I’m not happy about Christmas or New Year. They’re just dates— “celebrations,” as you may call them. But what can I celebrate when the only thought in my head tells me to go to bed early so the hours can pass without me noticing them? I can’t deal with the holidays. I just can’t. But society tells me that I have to. What if I don’t want to? What then? Am I a horrible person? Am I the Antichrist? Does this feeling make me the Grinch? Does this time of year hurt? YES, IT DOES. It hurts because it reminds me that some time ago there would be dozens of people at my mum’s house, getting ready. The whole fami...
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