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A lazy morning (afternoon) with a huge mug of
Earl Grey, a pack of Turkish Jades, and my
Cheshire Cat pajamas.

Hair, snarled and getting tangled in the
necklace I haven't taken off for a week. No
make-up whatsoever, except for the tiny black
smudges under my lower lashes that I couldn't
get to with the washcloth.

I keep rubbing my eyes and pushing my fingers
through my hair. I want to go back to sleep,
but I'm not allowed as today is most likely
the day of buying a tree.

I used to think that I hated Christmas. But now,
after reading and hearing so many other people
who are much more adament about it? I can
safely say that I'm not so bad. I don't like the
bland consumerism of it all, but I do like the
lights going up and some of the more tasteful
decorations. I also like the idea (and smell)
of a tree in the house.

I don't like the memories, however.

Every year, more are added on. Sometimes, as
they're actually being lived out, I believe
and hope that these are the memories I will hold
to myself when I am old and grey. But, by the
time that the next year rolls in, they've
become the memories I wish to push away and
never have in my head ever again.

This time last year, I was so full of hope and
happiness...you probably would have wanted to
smack me from all the chirping. I'm a mild
shadow of that now. A fake shadow, at that.
Because I am false.

It's a false smile, false cheer.
I'm keeping the masks on for the sake of everyone
around me, so they don't have to deal with the
bleak depression which is sitting in.

I just deleted a huge chunk of this entry
because it made me sick.

(no subject)

Date: 2001-12-15 05:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] verminefasciste.livejournal.com
bleh. want to say something soothing. cannot think of anything. empathizing, though.

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thejunipertree

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