This Christmas
I leave the world behind when I talk to my parents (or about them); it is merely the same thing to me. I release my connection to this world and delve in the memories that kept me going for so long after they were gone. It is no longer about the sadness and loneliness; it is about comparing my current life to the one I once had with them. Christmas time seems to be the hardest every year. And every year I prepare myself to face its music but I fail. I fail miserably. If only they haven't shown me a "perfect" world, a "perfect" family, a "perfect" love, a "perfect" everything, I would be much happier today. I can't say truly that I miss them. I don't. I never have for they never left me; not even a moment of my monotnous life. I look around me and tune in to conversations about holidays, families, and parents and I shrug my shoulders. I don't have that privilege anymore. I can't say I am going home to my family and spending my