Day Three hundred and fifty eight - So here we are

If you were on the outside looking into my house, you would never guess that it's Christmas. It's something that has been de facto absent from our lives for many a year, and I can't even begin to remember the last time a Christmas tree went up here. I don't know what happened - other than everything that happened between us in this family. It wasn't just the one thing, the one inciting incident, it was maybe a lot of small things, and a whole bunch of big things, but eventually, somewhere along the way... things just stopped happening. There are no decorations, no lights, no presents... no nothing. It's just another day, just another ordinary day. And me, personally, I stopped caring. I stopped having reasons to celebrate Christmases, they became days of extreme loneliness and isolation for me, then they became just... just meaningless. But there is a part of me - and a not inconsiderable one at that - that really wishes this day still held a potent meaning to me. I wish, I wish, I wish... but I made sure to make the worst decisions possible, decisions made possible to make an impossibility. Of course I miss the warm glow of the lights, and the presents, and being... huh. Being someone that I am not. Being something that I am not.

It still is somewhat an amazing thing for me to ponder and accept the notion that the only person who ever seemed to care about reverting my distaste / apathy for these occasions was She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who, in a quite uncharacteristic show of actual empathy, told me she found it unacceptable that someone she cared for and loved (her words, not mine) would have no cause to celebrate these 'special' days. Eh, it is what it is. Everything is too far gone now. It's just one more thing for me to finally let go of, these delusions of normalcy.

It's somewhat of a comforting thought, that I'll never have to tell these stories again, not to a living soul. It's... sobering, to realize the folly of entertaining such notions. How, in what conceivable world, could I ever explain to anyone what's like to be me, how could I explain 'The House of Sorrow and Regret'? I can't, I won't. I won't have to. Not anymore.