Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass

I know what you’re thinking now. You’re thinking that there must have been a time when I wasn’t so bitter. A time when I actually enjoyed it. A time when I was the one to wake up early to open my presents underneath a plastic Christmas tree that I actually liked.

I guess there was a time like that. Not like I remember it now. She has ruined everything that Christmas used to be. It’s her fault I am like this now. It is her fault for inviting me to her parent’s place for Christmas dinner. It is her fault for stealing my heart, and dumping it like she didn’t have a care in the world. It is her fault for breaking me when I swore I could never, ever be broken.

It is her fault for leaving me alone to freeze in the snow, my lungs begging for air, my heart almost failing. It is her fault that I have become this way. It is her fault that I hate Christmas. It is her fault that I can’t get through one fucking day without thinking of her stupid fucking face and the empty box in her chest that she calls a heart.

It is her fault that I tear down all the decorations. It is her fault that I shove couples underneath the mistletoe to the side, ruining their magical moment. A magical moment that was once ours. It is her fault that boys like me become heart breakers. It is all her fucking fault.