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You would give anything to be alone on Christmas.
You dream of a plush, brown chair, cradling a cup of coffee with two cats curled around you while it snows outside. Old Christmas music is playing from an antique radio you fixed while old shows play on the small TV in the corner. The walls covered in grandmother's paintings she collected through the years and photographs of the people before you.
You think about how fun Christmas used to be when you were small. Grandmother's home used to be warm and bright. The kids running around in this old home, looking up at the antiques surrounding them and watching the cartoons on the big box TV downstairs. Hands sticky with peppermint sticks and chocolate. The kids are grown and gone, so the parents drink and reminisce.
You dreamed of being older and one of the adults, finally being able to drink and talk about important stuff. Understanding the jokes and humor. Now, you're older. You don't drink, but you can sit with the adults. You mostly listen. And you learn. And you wish to go home. Because this isn't what you wanted. What you dreamed of. This used to be fun.
Opening gag presents and having to fight over the best. Hoping you get the hidden money. Or the expensive Starbucks cup. Feeling bad and trading with the poor kid that got a cheap present that was grabbed last minute in the clearance aisle. You stopped caring years ago and left with whatever you got. The glass fish that your cat knocked over. The stuff animals that get thrown out. Everyone has stopped caring at this point.
Your mom tries to keep everyone together. Asking what we should bring, if we're doing this or that. Will so-and-so come? Watching her eyes light up and in turn catching the cousins eyes dim in annoyance. They don't want to come. You don't want to either. But mom will give you the silent treatment. She'll beg. She'll guilt-trip you. She'll ask what's wrong. Why don't you want to go? There has to be something wrong. She has anxiety, so you have to go. She can't go anywhere without you. She won't have fun without you.
If it's a success, the first couple of hours will be fun. You'll tidy up, turn on all the Christmas lights, make some coffee and set up the yule log on the big TV. But as you sit back in dad's plush, brown chair, with your cup of coffee, the guilt will settle in. You'll wonder if this is really what you wanted to do on Christmas Eve. Alone. Sitting in a rotting house surrounded by your grandmother's old paintings and photographs of the people before you. You think about how fun life used to be when you were small.
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Izzy
Nice Wain cat PFP!
ty ! :)
by alexander; ; Report
TGnostic
You w-wouwd give anything t-to be awonye on Chwistmas. You dweam of a pwush, bwown c-chaiw, cwadwing a c-cup of coffee with two *starts twerking* cats cuwwed awound you whiwe i-it snyows outside. Owd Chwistmas music is pwaying fwom an antique wadio you fixed whiwe owd shows pway *notices buldge* on the x3 smaww *starts twerking* TV in the x3 cownyew. the *runs away* wawws cuvwed in gwandmothew's paintings she cowwected thwough the x3 yeaws and photogwaphs of the x3 peopwe befowe you. *sweats* You think about how f-fun Chwistmas used t-to be when *notices buldge* you wewe smaww. gwandmothew's >w< home used t-to be wawm and bwight. the *runs away* kids wunnying awound in this owd home, wooking up at the x3 antiques suwwounding them and watching the x3 cawtoons on the x3 big box TV downstaiws. Hands sticky with peppewmint sticks and chocowate. the *runs away* kids awe gwown and g-gonye, so the x3 pawents dwink and weminyisce. You dweamed of b-being owdew and onye of the x3 aduwts, finyawwy b-being abwe t-to dwink and tawk about impowtant stuff. Undewstanding the x3 jokes and humow. Nyow, you'we owdew. You don't dwink, ;;w;; but you c-can sit ^-^ with the x3 aduwts. You mostwy wisten. And you weawn. And you wish t-to go home. ^w^ Because this isn't what you wanted. What you dweamed of. This used t-to be f-f-fun. openying *whispers to self* gag ^w^ pwesents and having t-to fight uvw the x3 best. *walks away* Hoping you get the x3 hidden monyey. Ow the x3 expensive S-Stawbucks cup. Feewing bad >w< and twading with the x3 poow kid that got a cheap p-pwesent that was gwabbed wast m-minyute in the x3 cweawance aiswe. You stopped cawing yeaws ago and weft with whatevew you got. the *runs away* gwass fish that youw cat knyocked uvw. the *runs away* stuff anyimaws that get thwown *whispers to self* out. E-E-Evewyonye has stopped cawing at this point. Y-Y-Youw mom twies t-to k-k-keep evewyonye togethew. A-Asking what we *notices buldge* shouwd bwing, if we'we d-d-doing this ow (・`ω´・) that. >w< Wiww so-and-so come!!11 Watching hew eyes wight up and in tuwn catching the x3 cousins eyes dim in annyoyance. *notices buldge* They don't w-want t-to c-come. You don't w-want t-to eithew. But mom wiww give you the x3 siwent *screeches* tweatment. she'ww OwO beg. she'ww OwO guiwt-twip you. *sweats* she'ww OwO ask what's wwong. Why don't you w-want t-to go?!?1 *walks away* Thewe has t-to be something wwong. She has anxiety, so you have t-to g-g-go. She can't go anywhewe without you. *sweats* She won't have f-fun without you. *sweats* If it's a success, the x3 fiwst coupwe of houws wiww be f-f-fun. You'ww tidy *looks at you* up, tuwn on aww the x3 Chwistmas w-w-wights, make some coffee and set up the x3 yuwe wog on the x3 big TV. *screams* But as you sit ^-^ back in dad's *looks at you* pwush, bwown c-chaiw, with youw c-cup of coffee, the x3 guiwt settwes in. You'ww wondew ^w^ if this is weawwy x3 what you w-wanted t-to do on Chwistmas Eve. Awonye. Sitting in a wotting ÚwÚ house suwwounded by youw gwandmothew's owd paintings and photogwaphs of the x3 peopwe befowe you. *sweats* You think about how f-fun wife used t-to be when *notices buldge* you wewe smaww.
oh my godd
by alexander; ; Report
TGnostic
uwuifying this for making me cry