Obviously, it is Christmas day—25th day of December and today... I already have 21 Decembers in my life…and i guess, I'll be counting more painful Decembers to come. Well. Be reminded of Mr. Grinch who hated Christmas. I do hate this time of the year.
I remember back in my elementary years, I wrote a poem entitled “Is Christmas day not meant for me?” perhaps that explains my sentiments.
As an extra “ordinary” child, hearing from my friends that Christmas is coming saddened me a lot and brings me tears. That’s amazing though! I do know how to cry over life’s drama as young as I am instead of crying because of wounded knees. Those nights I watch my neighbors’ decorated with Christmas stuffs, while ours got nothing—lights off and the rest is sleeping. And on the 25th day of the year, we are all obliged to wake up early to help our parents bake cakes—for the customers. Each one of us is busy, greeting one another is not a big deal and we even ended up with fried egg and rice for lunch--the easiest food we could prepare.
This is what it takes being in a middle class family, we need to earn extra living and celebrating is just an option.
I thought I already overcome the pain, and sleeping before 12 in the midnight could make me leave behind the weeping thing—I was so wrong. I was trying to hold back the tears and keep it by myself. I feel sorry for myself to feel this kind of pain. I mean, I am so old to get hurt. I should be accepting the fact that today is just an ordinary day.
I was used to it; it is always the scenario—no more, no less. Though each year, I do wish I could spend one Christmas Eve together with my family. Have a Christmas filled with laughter and not of tears. That’s it; I was left wondering why.
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