Of all the things I rant about, Christmas is not one of them. Sometimes, when I’m in the mood, I even defend it from cynics. I heart Christmas.
I don’t get all the hate, really. I get it from teenagers, if they already hate themselves, poor little Christmas doesn’t even stand a chance. I’m pretty sure adults have different reasons to hate it; it’s one specific reason I don’t understand, probably the most in fashion nowadays: because it’s special.
People always bitch about the rest of us being hypocrites on Christmas; we are nicer, spend money we don’t have and make painful attempts to cook. Well, fuck yeah, we are. We are filthy hypocrites… So what? What would be the fun of the Holidays if we just did the same things we do on a daily routine?
A romantic may say we should be nice to each other the rest of the year. Yes, that’s very cute and I agree, but is that poor Christmas fault? I don’t hate Halloween because I don’t get to wear a costume the rest of the year and I surely don’t hate my birthday because people don’t give me presents the rest of the year. If someone is following my train of thought, what we should really hate is “the rest of the year”. Fuck “the rest of the year”.
The truth is, for the average person, being grateful, generous and lovable all freaking year is exhausting.
I can’t talk for everybody here. I find myself, most of the year, complaining about my dad treating me as if I still was a five-year-old, my mom’s endless list of questions, one brother’s lack of contact and other’s constant nagging , female friends’ slutty ways and male friends’ crappy jokes… I’m glad there’s a date when I’m pushed to face how much my life would suck without them.
you filthy hypocrite.