Wrote this out on another blogging site. I think it was a decent post, so reposting it here.

Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
You’re never thought of,the year round,
Until it’s too late, we are bound,
To buy gifts at Christmas time,
No meaning left to signify.
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
We used to think of happiness,
But we’re not children (God help us.)
Commercialism is at fault,
Shops don’t care, they want things sold.
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?



Sorry if anyone finds this offensive. I just wrote this because I think Christmas lacks any meaning nowadays, especially to me, now knowing about its origin yet not believing in a specific deity, and still mindlessly celebrating. As a child I used to get ridiculously excited and stayed up to catch Santa delivering presents- my family was never very religious, but they did get into the festive spirit. Once, I heard footsteps coming down the corridor, when I lived at my fathers house, and I closed my eyes excitedly and pretended to sleep as ‘Santa’ put presents in the stocking by my bed. He sat on my bed. I was really excited, and really wanted to see, but there was something stopping me. There was this feeling that it would end the anticipation I always felt.
After he left my room, and I was sure he was out of the corridor, I raced into my brothers room to wake him up and tell him that the presents had come, and that Santa might still be here. We got really worked up, and tiptoed down the corridor to see if we could see Santa. We could see the light in the living room turned on, and we both assumed that it was him. But neither of us were brave enough to peek our head around the corner and look. I could hear my brothers heart beating, and I’m sure it was the same vice versa. It was pretty much the most exciting night of my entire childhood. It was also the first, and only all nighter I’ve ever pulled.
I was at the age that people were just starting to disbelieve. I went back to school when the holidays stopped, and when people asked each other what Santa gave them for Christmas, there were kids who were telling them that Santa didn’t exist. I gave them my recap of Christmas Eve, and how I knew that Santa actually sat on my bed. In my heart and in my head, I was firmly convinced. I even told them “He was heavier than my mum and my dad put together!” (Years later, I found out that it was my mum who did all of the Christmas-related delivery, and I still feel guilty for that comment.) And I convinced everyone else too.
That’s what I think Christmas, and Santa is about. The ability to be convinced purely by faith. This is for Christians and non religious people alike. I mean, isn’t that what Christianity is? Faith. There is a certain magic held in the upkeeping of faith, and this is why I respect Christianity, and almost every other religion I know of. I think children epitomise the atmosphere of Christmas. I really miss that magical element; that night is the last I’d experienced of it. I think by the next Christmas my faith in Santa had been taken away.Yet the magic of Christmas still remained, for a while, at least. Because I was a child, and the simple act of being a child, of bliss, and ignorance, brings some alternate meaning to almost everything.

Now, there’s nothing. Gifts bought simply because of an event that no longer holds any meaning to me. It actually brings up a feeling of guilt inside of me.

Nevertheless, even if I no longer enjoy the feeling of Christmas, I hope at least some of you retain some magic.I wish all of you a merry Christmas, or simply a happy holidays.

I... I think today was important.
I try very hard not to cry in front of people. My mother and my old counselor have been the only people who have seen me properly cry in the past few years.
Until today.
I think I'm beginning to trust you.
Don't scoff at the word 'beginning'.
It takes a lot.
And don't be worried either. I'm glad I cried. It had been too long.
I need some way of relieving myself from the stock of feelings I feel I have to build up.
You already know I barely tell anyone anything.
Having had depression, and still suffering from frequent patches where I sink ridiculously low, I think it's understandable that I need to cry, and I think it also gives a reason for the lack of knowledge people have about me directly. I'm not about to burden someone with my feelings when they occur often.
Crying is probably a healthy thing. It doesn't mean I'll cry every time I see you, I just think that today was a step in the right direction. Don't worry, please.

I love you.

I like having friends.
I don't have very many. Less, this year.
I really would appreciate being able to sit and talk with someone again.
There was one point in my life where I was surrounded by people like that.
I've become much less open and much more loud.
I'm really not sure how that's happened.
I've found someone I love, who I can't imagine life without.
I've discovered that I don't want to spend time with all of the friends who are available to me, yet I want to spend time with people who are off limits because of either emotional or physical distance.
I think that's why I enjoyed the picnic. It felt like I had friends.
I doubt many people would really care all too much if I didn't speak to them for the rest of their lives.

I dislike growing older.
I turn 16 on Saturday.
This is not good news.
Time; back off.

Everyone who has done less than me in the way of pretty much everything, thinks that I've done more, and everyone who's done less than me thinks I've done less.
I've either got to tell people things or let people make assumptions.
None of those options I like.