in memory of darby crash and john lennon.
the first week of december has been sad. we are on our own. i am going to be alone tomorrow night. i’m hoping to use the silence to write. i need to catch up on the story of five people.
i am missing my childhood. with the christmas approaching i’m only reminded of the past. and i thought i was letting go. i am reminded of my childhood christmases, which were different and more traditional than what they are now. i remember the baking, the cooking, the decorations, the plastic tree we all loved so much. i remember we used to go to ikea, mom and i, to shop for new sets of decorations and other little things. sometimes it would snow, sometimes the whole winter would be dry. i remember being excited about christmas.
as much as i dislike the idea of christmas holidays today i am glad my parents allowed me to enjoy them when i was little. i thought it was magic.
but i can’t see the magic anymore. all i see are ugly trees, fake warm snow and disgusting decorations everywhere. and the music — i can’t fucking stand it. then there are massive billboards trying to sell you some shit you don’t need for the money you don’t have but you’re going to buy it anyway because a blond half-naked chic with a santa hat is smiling at you. i always laugh but i secretly wish i would throw up right there on the street. i walk the streets and i see all this shit that is supposed to represent christmas and i just can’t believe it.
this will be the third year without christmas at home and i am proud of it. we don’t celebrate christmas anymore. it was the best decision.
but i am hypocrite because i miss it. times are different.