It's Christmas 2021.
I've been so angsty and moody and mopey all day.
And then I remembered that's how I always get every year this day.
The existentialism hits me in a way that leads me to lay down somewhere a dissociate to the heavens.
I thought about my father for like 2 seconds today. Fuck that guy. This is progress. I could truly care less about him this year. What a wonderful feeling, truly.
But perhaps it is because I am so overcome with everything else this year, I don't even have time to devote to thinking about him (this is not true but it objectively feels so).
I am going through a divorce, I am going through another gut-wrenching breakup, I am mourning the loss of my stepfather to divorce, I am in a town by myself with just my cat and my roommate, and I did have to work today and although it was probably a good thing, I fucking hate capitalism.
Christmas is just another day of the year to get through. I am knowing that like I've never known it before.
Everything feels awfully shallow and empty on Christmas anyways. I'm ready to let it go. Time to move on.
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