It's this certain time of year, when the winter air is here and the merry countenance of window shops and houses let us know that it must be the holidays, it must be time for cheer. It's this certain time of year where everyone gets together and we're given an opportunity to show what others mean to us in the form of a monetary worth.
I fucking hate this time of year. Fuck the holidays.
It's astonishing, amazing, how quickly years of training myself to shut up and smile around my family goes down the drain in five seconds. I thought i got all this angst out of my system long ago in my teen years, but i guess old feelings just die hard.
Explaining this to my confused but pissed grandma is like trying to explain the plot of Donnie Darko to a loaf of bread; there is just no use, and no matter how many times you specify about worm holes it will just stare at you in silence because you do not speak the same language and all it's concerned about is it's own wheat and room temperature.
I was the butt of the eternal fat/scar joke for that group of witless half-spined spasming monkeys for 18 years of my life. I'm 23, i've grown in ways i never knew possible, and i will not take their shit lying down. I will get in a fight, i will get thrown out, i will cross any line they always made me stay behind and take the abuse from, but i will never be put in that spot again. And never will i fee bad for being a little rude or a little mean to my main tormentor, because i know for certain he deserves what comes to him. All i've known is being alone on my side of the line, ally's don't exist here in this place where my angst sleeps.
Those warm winter family nights never exist for me, i'd rather freeze by a trash can.
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