Christmas used to be my favourite holiday. And you knew that.
But on the day we were supposed to celebrate, the 23rd, you crashed your car. You crashed your car after spending the night at a girls house.
And did you call me and ask to be saved?
No.
You called her.
And you kissed her.
And you wouldn't have even told me it happened. You would have lied.
And then we celebrated. On the 26th. And I found out, but not from you.
And you said you were sick of my constant crying. But how did you expect me to act?
But when I think back and remember Christmas, I think the worst part was
That your mother had crossed out "from" on all my presents
And instead had written "love."