Roaring fires
Sweet smells rising from oven
Mixed with the crisp pine of a freshly cut tree
And the sound of their voices.
Excited with anticipation and spirit.
From cold icy air to warmth in my home.
And it’s always been my favorite.  I bask in the joy of these little things.
Comforted by the familiar tunes and films we watch year after year.
But this empty feeling in the depths of my soul, stagnant and ever-present, won’t let me embrace my usual happiness.
Wanting to enjoy but this uneasiness, this overwhelming darkness, clouding my surroundings.
Push it down and push it down.
Ignore it again.
I’ve become an expert at pretending.
False laughter.
Trying to keep it all together for everyone else.
He told me, “You’re the glue,” but what good am I if nothing sticks?
Adding to this never ending list,
Feeling broken and hopeless.
So yes, it’s always been my favorite.
But this year feels different.
I’m just not myself anymore.