Christmas Past & Christmas Present
Last Christmas was a stark contrast to this one. Death still lurked in the corner of the rooms, but it wasn't as present as last year. Last year, it had only been a month since my nan had died and my granddad was still ill. This year, both of them were gone; the difference being a year for her and 8 months for him. It was strange sitting there, watching my siblings try to have Christmas joy. I lost that a long time ago, but props for them for trying to have something. They wanted to do decorating, but with so much upset going on, they just did the bare minimum. I was relieved. I don't like Christmas. I don't like the false sense of hope and empty sentiments about relationships it shoves down your throat. If I could outlaw the holiday, I would. It's nothing against believers or anything like that, it's just the season worsens my mood is all. Yeah, that's selfish, but meh. Unphased. Truth be told, in addition to worsening my low mood, it also sparks a deep-seated hatred and rage within me. It works me up into a frothing anger that is something difficult to hold down.
Last year I was high on morphine, lorazepam and drinking massive amounts of tequila. I still remember how the room spun and how it was a struggle to breathe. I knew what I was doing; it wasn't an accident. I wasn't having a hard time dealing with Barb's death, but with everyone's bullshit. The phoney outpourings of emotion; they never wanted to spend time with the woman when she was alive but soon as she dies, they're all up their on their soapboxes. My siblings upset over it, that unrest only added to my stress. I'm not upset by death. I love death. I think of it as the ultimate freedom. Those around me really don't share that viewpoint.
It was my self-hatred coming to a head, my self-destructive tendencies seducing me. And that led to my running away and hiding in Sweden, Norway, the Faroe Islands and Iceland for a little bit this year. I'm pretty sure I blogged almost all of the trip as I went around trying to get out of my fucking head. I hate when I get locked into it and nothing wants to end. That being said, I really did need the trip. I had some amazing experiences that changed the way I viewed a few things, gave me positive things to focus on and gave me a few new project ideas.
This year I was curled up, wanting nothing more to be high or passed out. I started drinking early and fought. They don't know how much the holidays cut me. I've always hated Christmas; when I was younger I liked the magic of it, there was a warmth to it, I don't want to say love, but it was a time when arguments and bullshit was put to the side. Then I got a bit older and realised it was all just a carefully crafted lie. We moved and things got worse. I stopped getting presents and the whole thing turned into what I took to be a giant fuck you to me. I'm pretty sure it was a big fuck you to me. When you've spent the holidays alone for ages, you stop caring about them. You realise no one really wants you around their special time and if you were important to them, you'd have been invited along. It's shameless, empty behaviour. And I really don't want to be a part of it. Either be my friend the entire year or don't. End of. I'm not asking for presents or you to feel obligated to do anything for me; I want you to include me because you want to.
As intoxication came over me I argued with Puffy. His shittier attitude lately, his lack of communication and his just disrespect for me came to a head. We had it out. It felt good. Falling asleep was easier on both of us following the explosion. Always does. I don't think I really want the yelling at each other to go away. It's cathartic. Helps keep the focus on what really is important.
I found the contrast between the two years interesting is all and I wanted to share it here. If I make it through the next year to next Christmas it might be even stranger. I'm not gonna delude myself and think that there will be loads of presents, a tree, warm emotions and tasty snacks, but I've got a little bit of hope that it will be something better than the last 16 years of shit storms.
Last year I was high on morphine, lorazepam and drinking massive amounts of tequila. I still remember how the room spun and how it was a struggle to breathe. I knew what I was doing; it wasn't an accident. I wasn't having a hard time dealing with Barb's death, but with everyone's bullshit. The phoney outpourings of emotion; they never wanted to spend time with the woman when she was alive but soon as she dies, they're all up their on their soapboxes. My siblings upset over it, that unrest only added to my stress. I'm not upset by death. I love death. I think of it as the ultimate freedom. Those around me really don't share that viewpoint.
It was my self-hatred coming to a head, my self-destructive tendencies seducing me. And that led to my running away and hiding in Sweden, Norway, the Faroe Islands and Iceland for a little bit this year. I'm pretty sure I blogged almost all of the trip as I went around trying to get out of my fucking head. I hate when I get locked into it and nothing wants to end. That being said, I really did need the trip. I had some amazing experiences that changed the way I viewed a few things, gave me positive things to focus on and gave me a few new project ideas.
This year I was curled up, wanting nothing more to be high or passed out. I started drinking early and fought. They don't know how much the holidays cut me. I've always hated Christmas; when I was younger I liked the magic of it, there was a warmth to it, I don't want to say love, but it was a time when arguments and bullshit was put to the side. Then I got a bit older and realised it was all just a carefully crafted lie. We moved and things got worse. I stopped getting presents and the whole thing turned into what I took to be a giant fuck you to me. I'm pretty sure it was a big fuck you to me. When you've spent the holidays alone for ages, you stop caring about them. You realise no one really wants you around their special time and if you were important to them, you'd have been invited along. It's shameless, empty behaviour. And I really don't want to be a part of it. Either be my friend the entire year or don't. End of. I'm not asking for presents or you to feel obligated to do anything for me; I want you to include me because you want to.
As intoxication came over me I argued with Puffy. His shittier attitude lately, his lack of communication and his just disrespect for me came to a head. We had it out. It felt good. Falling asleep was easier on both of us following the explosion. Always does. I don't think I really want the yelling at each other to go away. It's cathartic. Helps keep the focus on what really is important.
I found the contrast between the two years interesting is all and I wanted to share it here. If I make it through the next year to next Christmas it might be even stranger. I'm not gonna delude myself and think that there will be loads of presents, a tree, warm emotions and tasty snacks, but I've got a little bit of hope that it will be something better than the last 16 years of shit storms.
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