The best moments in my life aren't the laughs you share with your friends, or looking into the mirror and seeing beauty for once. No, the best moment is when it's 1 AM and I fall into my bed, eyes just about to close. The weight of the world seems to be heaved off your shoulders and slowly crushing another person while your fears and worries fade away into sleep.
It's like an orgasm, but lasts a bit longer and has dire consequences the moment your brother brutally awakens you.
Imagine, floating in a sea of silky smooth fabrics, cotton-cloud pillows, and a warmth no heater could ever give you. Now, imagine that multiplied by a thousand! (I know it's not possible, but when you're on this drunk, sleepy-high, anything is.) That's how my bed feels in that gracious moment.
The moment lasts a few minutes, and then you roll to your side, realize you're not covered by enough blanket, cold is creeping in, your face is smashed against what seems to be a hardening pillow, and your hip is digging into the not-so-soft mattress you once mistook it to be. That's how my life is all the time, not just when I'm sleeping.
You see, I have these small moments of happiness, and then the next thing I know, I'm accompanied by a pinched, angry-faced reality saying, "Wake the hell up! You get to go to work and get pickle juice spilled all over you!" I'd very much rather have blood all over me.
Lately, reality has been a bit more harder on me than it needs to be. I got to stick my hands in a cadaver, and my god was it awesome! I was happy, satisfied, sure of what I want to do when I grow up, but the moment I boarded the bus to go home, depression slithered into my shoe and delivered its acidic bite.
I feel like I have nothing exciting to look forward to, save for the day my 16 year old body is soon defined as 17 year old body. But a birthday is a birthday. I might get cake, maybe a present or two (for no reason, I might add, except having been born), and then that random Thursday night will be finished with smug pre-calculus homework. Awesome.
I suppose there are a few movies I am looking forward to; Les Miserable and The Hobbit. But to be honest? They're just movies. Nothing that would really affect my life in any way. Except that I super seriously really want to see both of them super seriously bad.
I know what you're thinking. "What about Christmas? Aren't you excited for that?"
Let me tell you why:
Once upon a time, there was a family of seven living on a below-moderate family's annual income. Wait, I think that's all you need to know!
Just kidding. It's mostly the same Christmas music that is played over and over every stinking year!
It's also the annoying bell-ringers that stand in front of Walmart with monotonous faces saying, "Donate! Sharing is caring!"
At the family Christmas day party, the grandparent's offspring have to rotate in a circle who's giving to whose family. Ex: My family would give to my mom's brother's family this year, and then next year, give to the next in line. (Sort of like what we're doing with my immediate family.) I find it stupid, because we have to buy something for the whole family or for each family member, as well as our own Christmas presents. It's stupid.
I could hate Christmas because of those painfully bright Christmas lights I have to squint at when I drive by at night.
Better yet, just the fact that it's night time at six in the stinking evening.
It could also be the snow, the junk food, the sweets, the fattening of my body, the dis-motivation I feel about running, the obligation I feel to buy everyone I love presents when really only my love is what they need...
I also don't really like hot-chocolate, so I feel people might have an uncontrollable disliking for me in that sense.
I don't look very good in hats. Sorry if you beg to differ, but I don't.
Also, I've gained an increasingly long-lasting hate for Walmart during the holiday seasons. Or any store, for that matter.
I'm beginning to grow annoyed at the religious aspect of Christmas too. First of all, it's WINTER break for public school, not Christmas. That's something Tyler's horribly ex and I somehow agree on. I'm sorry, but there are non-religious, Muslim, Jewish, etc. people and all kinds of other religious people that aren't Christian or Catholic. I'm sick of hearing the nativity story all the freaking time. I'm sick of cute, Eve-like angels everywhere preaching, "Choose the right!" I won't ever say these things out loud, but that doesn't mean I have to like any of it.
I especially don't like having to sit on that halitosis-drenched, grandpa-smelling, cheesy jingle bell ringing Santa Claus they bring every year to the family Christmas parties. It makes me shudder to just think about it. It's the same every year!
"Ho ho, you're getting bigger! What do you want for Christmas this year?!" Translation: "My god you're too fat for my old grandpa legs. What is it you've been begging your annoyed parents for this year?"
I usually try to respond with a witty comment or make it so personal that he begins to feel awkward because he barely knows me. Translation: "FML".
I do enjoy, however, throwing snow balls at my brothers and sledding down adrenaline-induced hills of steep heights.
Mistletoe, perhaps, might become a favorite if I suddenly become a normal girl this season.
I also enjoy soup, blankets, slippers, pajamas, and making ornaments for the tree. Those aren't too bad.
And...Transiberian Orchestra is awesome. 'Nuff said.
I admit, receiving presents you like is pretty fun. (Okay, seeing the look on others' faces when I give them something is endearing too.)
Most of all: Winter break, the only longest break we get during a school year where I can write, sleep, watch shit, and earn a crap load of money with hours I don't normally get with school in my way.
I hate the term "Merry Christmas!" I've heard it so many times in my young young life. TO YOUNG to have heard it so many times, one would think.
Pinterest is getting increasingly difficult to tolerate, since it's overrun by follower's disgusting posts of Christmas everything. Why the hell is St. Patrick's day so left out?
The only people I'm buying presents for are:
The brother I'm supposed to give to
Mom and Dad
Almond and Gary (Or maybe I'll make them something pathetic, trying to be amazing)
My secret Santa assignment at work
To my friends, and everyone else who thinks they're important to me; you'll get something. Probably like a poem from the heart or a paper snowflake or something.
Sorry, but I have a future and a laptop to save up for. Has my negativity made it too late to say that I still love you guys anyway?
To cut to the chase, I will say only this: This is the first Christmas in my life so far that I've lost all enjoyment and excitement for. I will guarantee you, this Scrooge-ish hate will disappear one day. If not now, then some day.
I just realized that A Christmas Carol's message is about not being greedy and donating some of your money to the helpless. (Yes, I've lived my life not knowing this.) It bothers me to know that I don't really care about being selfless. If one is to be selfless, he'd be selfless the entire year, and not just during Christmas time when you're selflessly trying to buy everyone else's love. Duh.