I Hate Christmas

I dread Christmas. I hate it. I hate this time of year. The crowds of happy and not so happy people everywhere I go. It’s like a counterpoint to my own lonely and miserable life. I have no family, no close friends. Not really. I do have friends but I am not close to them. I can usually endure Christmas if I have a boyfriend, but this year, no boyfriend, so it was agony for me.

I can vaguely remember Christmas as a little girl. Being amazed and entranced by the pretty lights and decorations, the gifts, the one time of the year when everyone seemed to forget their troubles and acted happy even if they were not.

But like everything else in my childhood, the gloss soon wore off.  It became simply another event in the year to be endured like birthdays, thanksgiving, halloween. It’s like when you have something  terrible going on in your life it overwhelms everything else and becomes the core and focus of your entire existence. Nothing else matters and nothing else even registers with you. It was like … Christmas? So what? Christmas never changed anything.  I knew it would be back to normal as soon as it was over.

My Father abused me starting when I was about 10. Perhaps earlier. It wasn’t a sudden thing. It began in increments. Slowly advancing and increasing until it became full on sex. But it was so gradual that I cannot put an exact date on its commencement.

It’s over now. It’s in the past. I know. Get over it, girlfriend. Move on. I get it.   I know I can’t change the past.

It’s not that Christmas triggers painful memories of tragic events. No, it simply reminds me that I do not have and have never had, the things that most people take for granted. The love of a Father and Mother, the closeness of family. Simple happy times with people that you care about and who care about you. I never had that. I don’t know that.

It just sort of reminds me that I missed out on something and the abuse is more like a backdrop to the emptiness of my life. A backdrop? A foundation? An underscore even? Hahaha.

If I have a boyfriend at Christmas and it’s kind fo serious I attach myself to him desperately. Hoping he will invite me to spend Christmas with his family. If he has one. If he doesn’t thats cool too. Even better. I dont have to be alone and I don’t have to fake the whole Christmas bonhomie, spirit of goodwill thing.

I know its pathetic. I always buy lots of presents so I have spare presents for the Uncles, Aunts, Cousins and Nephew, unknown to me that might show up. I act like a regular little Santa’s Elf or something. I get into the spirit of Christmas like some fanatical maniac. I hug and I kiss strangers and mouth meaningless and unfelt insinceres sentiments.

But not this year. No I spent it alone. Alone and miserable and waiting for it all to pass and the world to get back to normal. It’s one extreme or the other. My friends all have families but I never go there. That would be too painful. I have tried it and it was awful. Unbearable.

A bunch of strangers and a guy I am fucking is bearable but friends and family are not.

So now there is just New Year to get through but thats not too bad. So many people like to get off their face on New Years Eve and go crazy and I am one of them.  I always get utterly and completely shitfaced and generally fuck anyone that is available.  I troll the bars and clubs until I find one that has the right vibe and then I go into the toilet and take my panties off and go get shitfaced and take on any comers. Hahaha.

Sounds bad I know but it’s a case of whatever gets you through it.

One Response to “I Hate Christmas”

  1. Bottomless says:

    Hello,
    Come On
    Bottomless

    [WORDPRESS HASHCASH] The poster sent us ‘0 which is not a hashcash value.

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