Ever since the end of summer, I have longed for the winter and Christmas to come. I always do. Year after year I dream of a city covered in snow and mistletoe hanging in the doorways, of Christmas trees and silver ornaments, and of happy times and a joyous holiday that I will remember for the rest of my life. I can carry the Christmas spirit wherever I go ever since the end of September but the closer it gets to the actual holiday, the more that magical feeling vanes.
I do not know why, but after a while the lights seem not as bright as before, the charols not as cheery, and the open fire not as comforting. Everything I had thought of doing seems so very impossible, and the people I had intended to do them with unreachable. Everything changes and no matter how much I try, I can not stop it. I am always disappointed.
This year, you have only made it worse. All of you. It does not even matter if you knew what you were doing or not; my Christmas was ruined before it even had the chance to begin.
I have even begun to wonder if there is such a thing as a Merry Christmas.
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