Today is Christmas.
I know today is about celebrating the birth of Jesus and everything, but I'm not feeling it.
For a while now I've been sort of contemplating religion. It sounds wrong and if I told my mom she would probably kill me. But it's just if there was some guy up there, why would he do this to me?
Before things got bad I used to go to church camp every summer. There we would learn how God only gives you what he knows you can handle. But I can't handle this.
That's why I'm skeptical.
One good thing about Christmas is that the whole family is together. Dad is staying at the house, and Jake is home from college.
It made me feel genuinely happy when I saw mom and dad in the kitchen, swaying to the Christmas music. Dad slowly swayed behind mom, his hands on her hips as she stirred the pudding.
I know they're trying to finalize the divorce papers. Still though. My parents belong together. Dad is a rotten caring asshole and mom is gentle and kind. I'd like to think that they're soulmates. It makes me happy to think that.
But then I'm dragged back into reality, and then I remember their fights behind closed doors. The nights that dad spent in the sofa and mom wept away in her room.
We still took our Smith Christmas picture in front of the tree. The five of us forgot about our sorrows and smiled for the camera. I was holding Frankie, her pigtails covering my face.
It was stressful.
Having to be social for almost eighteen hours. Normally I can escape to my room, but today it felt so wrong. Holidays are meant to be spent with family.
But the voice in my head kept feeding me these destructive thoughts.
Tip over the candle.
Drop the glass.
Trip Jake.
I don't like when it does that.
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Hope this is going alright
I know this sounds cheesy, but I honestly want everyone reading this to be happy. Like do whatever and be whatever to be happy. If there's anything I could do to help you find that happiness just let me know:)
