Christmas Day

Not much left before Christmas Day is finally over. And I'm trying not to be a spoilsport. I know many people love this day, they get to meet their relatives and friends whom they haven't seen for a long time, possibly since the last Christmas Day. Not me. And no I do not like Scrooge or copying his style for that matter. But my Christmas Day is probably as lifeless as a soft toy lying on a child's bed. Or perhaps that soft toy would have more action than me. I have everybody and nobody. I know what it is to live on your own, and I have survived quite some Christmas Days on my own. It's just another day. And a very boring day for me. It also is a day which makes me sad. Of course I could look and think of others less fortunate than myself, but we almost never do that. We see the grass on the other side, which is always greener. No I am far from being envious, it's just that I wish I could have a happy Christmas Day where I'm so rushed off my feet that I don't have time to think. Because I do enough thinking as it is. And enough of talking to myself too. Well I at least talk to my cats sometimes, but I couldn't describe it as a very intense kind of conversation. It would have been at least happier had Santa come, not through my chimney (I don't have one), but I guess he could make it through my front door. It's big enough for me, so Santa wouldn't have any problem. And I wouldn't ask him for anything. Well, yes, I would. I would ask him for some serenity, the kind where I could stay motionless yet still feel happy. I wouldn't ask for over the moon happiness, I tried that, it didn't work, because it never happened. My mum just called to check on her daughter, who is me, because she thinks I was drunk during lunch, I have told her time and time again, that this daughter of hers does not drink, but she either has a hearing problem, or a screwed up head. Probably both. How could I not appear drunk when I was eating lunch only minutes after I'd just got up? Or perhaps, like all mums, she knows something's not quite good, I suck at hiding things like these. How can I say, yes mum, please lay off, because I hate Christmas Day and Santa forgot to get me the IVF, or the required paperwork for the thing that is called 'love another child'? Or mum please stop the nagging because I'm pissed off seeing that a whole lot of people are twisting the truth? Or else, mum lay off again, because you can never understand me as a woman seeing the stork got you two bundles of joy in one? I try to talk sometimes, but it depends if the person you're talking to wants to listen. So I give up and just not talk. Perhaps I'm missing those little faces terribly. The holidays seem to be stretching like a million miles in front of me, they are getting in the way. It's just one hour of Christmas Day left. I've survived the 35th. Christmas Day of my life.