On Christmas Day

I was awakened by a call for help.

No matter, Joy is here.

And then now, I sit in bed, like I do every single year, thinking about the year that had been.

All I can say to 2009 is that I'm glad you're almost history.

Six days to go and I can bid adieu to you.

Out of the 349 days this year, I may have spent 300 of them being unhappy.

Not just pout-and-sulk unhappy. But really unhappy.

It gives me an unsettling feeling. Of disappointments in gargantuan proportion, of nights spent in bed forgetting to breathe.

I'm still trying to figure out how I got here. In a not-messy situation, but so unhappy.

I wonder, if I am the only person in the world who still lived on broken promises. Still.

Still desperately naive, still believing that all good things come to those who wait. Still.

I wonder, if God helps those who are too exhausted to help themselves.

I wonder, if liking myself is enough for anyone else but me.

I have been patient. But at the same time, what am I really waiting for? Perhaps, it is for that one answer that will never come.

In the past 300 days of being unhappy, I have learned that the one thing that you have counted heavily on, will be that one thing that will fail you.

In that same 300 days, I have learned it is never enough when I know what I want and how to get it. Because you don't.

I have learned that no matter how much I put myself first, this self has grown to be dependant on you.

I have learned that people will not treat me the same way I treat them. No, never.

And so, I have learned that I should not have expectations of people.

In these 300 days, I feel like I have exhausted myself. I'm spent. There is nothing left of me to give.

Everything that I have, I have given it my 150%. And you continue to take from me.

I wonder when it will be enough.

I said to you that I'm giving myself this entire year to think about everything.

I think I need time.

I don't ever want to feel guilty for wanting something good for myself. For wanting to be good to myself.

I've stood still here for so long. And it surprises me, for being so un-me. I need to move forward. I need to. I need to know what happens next. I need to take a plunge.

I need to be 26, doing all the things girls do when they're 26.

Going shopping, dressed up dinner dates, house hunting, talking about the future. Leaning on their other halves, knowing the way home when things get rough.

I need normalcy.

Because for the very first time in my entire life, in my 26 years, I wanted out.

Enough.

Enough of your broken promises.

Enough of disappointments.

Enough of talking. I'm all talked out. I've said all that I wanted, but you don't listen.

You never do.

Just once, I want to be selfish. I want it to be about me. I want you to know this is who I am and this is what I want. I want you to give it to me without having to ask. I want you to know even before I know it myself.

Just once, I want to be a self indulgent bitch without having to feel guilty or worrying about the consequences.

So Santa, it's been a shitty year. All I want for Christmas is to be happy.

I'm tired of trying, I'm tired of looking up.

I'm welcoming the new year with open arms.