Christmas, we meet again.
Everyone says it’s a jolly festive season, a time for happy get togethers that somehow always marks the nearing to the end of another, great year. It’s like the icing on the cake- the fine layer on top that seems untouchable, too delicate to be even cut through. It’s like the colored bow you put on a present after you’ve wrapped, to give it the complete look and feel. Weirdly enough that sums up Christmas for me.
But it’s different from a nice looking wrapped gift you can get from any metro stores- it’s not that simple. Mine’s in a plain old box that’s probably been ripped and torn apart multiple times, thrown around and left isolated for a while now. The one that you’ve put aside and only take it out once a year just for the sake of doing it.
And remembering Christmas is like how I remember my past, filled with so many memories when I start to question myself why do I feel so strongly about things that have already happened. It’s like flipping through the pages and wondering why did I even get into it in the first place.
Remembering Christmas is like passing a milestone I had in my life.
I’ve never really dared to feel so much for anything again after everything has happened.
And I don’t want to tell people how it feels to be the one still left behind.
Because I’m as egoistical as it goes and keeping up with such an identity is just self-inflicted harm.
I will still remember Christmas Eve years ago.
It’s not called being stuck in the past, it’s reminiscing.
This year, it will be different.
With the wounds healed but the scars left behind,
This empty box will soon be one despite being tattered and torn- everlasting and strong to try again.
Wrap it up with fine printed looking paper, cover it up.
And inside, you might just find what you’ve been looking for the whole time.
Have a merry christmas everyone,
Let yourself go and be willing to try again.
Cheers to new beginnings.