For the love of god, let me be ugly in peace.
Every holiday I find myself dragged by fools into the darkness of their light, being forced to smile at something that gives me little to no delight. They call me by the wrong name, treat me as the wrong gender, and force me to make THEM laugh.
Hah!
I’ve had it, I’m going back to France where I can dillydally all day and not worry about wearing pants. I’ll surround myself with cheese and chocolates, a soufflé if I may and a creme brûlée for all my pain. Dip me in honey and roast me over the fire so that I can turn a juicy gold and the red reading heart within my chest can retire. Ah, but then there will be a new light and I will be reborn yet again into another scaresome fright.
O, WOE IS ME!
SET ME FREE!
Choke me by the legs of my pants and send this insanity into the infinite abyss with one of your splendid effervescent moments of kiss.
These may just be some of my deepest desires