Xmas Blues

It's that time of the year once more. And has I am sitting here watching everybody else's Christmas through this window that is social networking I started to wonder... when was the last happy Christmas I ever had. To be honest... I think that the last truly happy Christmas I had was when my grandparents were still alive. Now, it's just a day like any other... except my family gather (father, mother, sister, son...) and we just bicker all throughout dinner. We get criticized as we drink our wine (too much of it, if I say so myself) and then we drink coffee and exchange gifts. After that, everybody sort of just scatters. This day has lost all meaning for me. It's just another day. Another day I feel lonely even though my family is with me. Another day I second guess everything I do so I don't get criticized. Another day I second guess everything I say so I don't start World War III. Another day for sadness to creep in slowly and make this hole I got punched through my heart a little bigger... I guess soon I'll be left with nothing but a hole in my chest. A black hole that'll suck every bit of happiness I might have coming my way.

Yes... it might just be the Xmas blues. But why do I feel so alone and so empty all of the time? I feel like I don't belong. This is not my country. This is not my world. Maybe it's not even my time. Why do have all these feelings flooding me all of the time all at once? I just wish all these voices could be silenced. I wish all these feelings would just stop. And even though I'd turn into just another robot like all those people I fear and stear clear of, I would probably be a bit happier living in ignorant bliss. But they never quiet down... they keep getting louder and louder. Sometimes I just can't handle it. And these feeling... they just keep twisting and turning. They burn me up inside. It's all unbearably hard. I just cope. I close my eyes and try to navigate this thunderstorm inside of me, this angry tumultuous sea that at times feels like it's ready to break all barriers and pour out of me through angry and violent words of despair and frustration.

These tears I cry from time to time are nothing but light showers. I know that poets or writers usually are known for having demons or tormented souls. If this is the case than I should be the most eloquent one of all. But I am not. I am just a simple person whose feelings are so intense they need to be expelled through writing. Because they are like a wound... and if a wound festers there's an infection setting in that left untreated will rot you to the core. I don't want to rot as much as I don't want to feel.

I am a mess. I am confused. I have no idea what I want to do. People have this idea of what I should be, they see me a certain way. I can't see myself in such a way. I can't even begin to conceive the image people project and tell me I should be. I don't want to be part of any social circles. I don't want to be popular. I don't.... I just want to be left alone. I know I said I was lonely and know I say I want to be alone. They're two different concepts: I feel lonely because there's no people around that understand me; I want to be left alone because I don't have the  strength  anymore to pretend I understand what people are talking about. I just don't get any of this social bullshit. Nobody ever says what they mean, and they never mean what they say... it's all horse shit! I'm fed up!

Fifteen years ago I would never believe I would spend a Christmas alone, in my room, blogging. Yet... here I am. Alone in my room blogging about my miserable Christmas. I shouldn't complain. I don't have a bad life. I have a great family...but they don't understand me. They understand that I have a different set of values and interests. Social standing is not something I aspire to. I just want to be myself.