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December 25th, 2002

Bon Fete, vous.

We went to 4pm mass, instead of midnight mass, thankfully. I only go to church with my mom twice a year, and I think I could only endure so much. Dinner at my grandmother's afterwards; worse than the church. How she can drag it on for 5 hours I cannot fathom. My sister and I are splitting a gift to my mother, and she bought it; then let me know that I have Nothing To Do with the gift. Fine; Let it fall. This is tradition, and much of why I do so hate "the holidays". Jesus. One day, either my mother or I will die, and I will be released from this cycle. A season, an entire fucking Season of hatred, anger, wrist-slitting depression, and the most anunciated emptiness I am equipped to feel circling like dogs, each one biting when I turn to face the others.

So, to all my beautiful friends and acquaintances: Merry Christmas. Have fun and enjoy your time together.


postscript -- no condolences, my wounds always heal come classtime.