Year after year, on Christmas,
you always feel the same way.

Wondering when and where Christmas became different in your life.

Gone are the good old days of being excited for the holidays.

Gone are the days enjoying Christmas,
with how you remember it as a kid.

Year after year,
you wonder how the joyous feeling of gift giving
became a feeling of obligation?

When did it start to become a season of fear?
That you may not have the prettiest house on the block?
That you may not have the most decorated Christmas tree,
with the most boxes of gifts underneath?
That you did not get the right gift?

That you may not have the best of food,
prepared and laid out on the table?

That the presents you give out are not good enough
for the person you gave it to?

Year after year, you sit down and reflect,
what in the hell happened that made Christmas sad for you?

How come you can’t be with people you want to be with?

How come all your friends are out,
enjoying their night,
being joyful and triumphant.

While you sit there,
in front of your computer,
writing shit down,
trying to make sense of something that doesn’t.

And year after year,
You finally realize,
Before you go to bed,
that,

Christmas is not about you.
It’s about Him.
It’s His Birthday.

Why are you so concerned about making Christmas happy for you.
Or others?

Why don’t you just stop your whining?
Go to church,
Tell him Happy Birthday,
and thank Him.

After all,
You spent the whole year, questioning Him,
It’s only one day.
Give Him a break.

—
I apologize for this post.
I don’t even know where this shit came from.

I am a victim of disorganized thinking.

Merry Christmas to one and all.