...and not for the better.
I won't be depressed during the Christmas and New Year's season. I'll be depressed and angry.
It's not that anything worse than usual happened today. There were annoyances, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary.
The misery of the past nine months is simply coming home to roost.
I have to work tomorrow, and I'm damned if I know how I'm going to put on the expected friendly, optimistic face to deal with the people I have to see.
From tomorrow night through New Year's Day, it's just me. I can no longer fool myself, so won't even bother trying.
I'll need to stay away from little kids for the next two days. I'd like them to carry on believing in Santa Claus, like them to continue to believe in the miracles of the season.
If you, dear readers, have any love and warmth in your lives, hang on tight. Don't let go of it, don't take it for granted. The love promised to me was a mirage and has been given to someone else. And I didn't even take it for granted.
Can there be anything worse than a joyless Christmas and an impending New Year that promises nothing but more loneliness and pointless struggle?
I'll try to return tomorrow with pictures of pretty lights.
3 hours ago