So here I am.
Christmas night.
Spending the evening serving people I don't really know and honestly don't really care about. Plastering a fake smile across my face and using a great amount of will power to pay attention to the small talk wafting through my house.
Now don't get me wrong, the food is great (Thank you Mummy) and the music is good. The place is beautiful, again thanks to Mummy, who has been thoroughly excited about decorating the place. Ive heard nothing but, "Change the curtains! Bring out the Christmas plates! Where are the Christmas tablecloths!" for about 2 weeks. Bless her.
But the people are all not the same. These people mean nothing to me. I want to spend Christmas with my family, and right now, I'm sitting in the corner of my hall, watching these people in the midst of their meaningless chatter while guzzling down our good booze like its going out of style.
Ive just realised how hungry I am, but I don't really want to eat. I just want this depressing night to end so I can crawl under my blanket and curl myself around my bolster and let the darkness envelope me like a warm glove.
And the best part is that all this could have been avoided if two adults had just acted like adults when it counted the most. Its so funny how they can go from educated and mature to petty and childish. In the heat of the moment, no one made the correct decision, and a family is broken. My family.
All these material things, the lavish decorations, the unnecessary soiree, and these people, are just attempts to fill a void that was left by that day. The day we broke.
We will be fine. Eventually. Time will work wonders for us.
But for now, Merry Christmas I suppose.
Life is too short to stay angry
