I Am Nostalgic

I remember when this time of year used to be so enjoyable for me, especially as a little kid when imagination was my best friend and my only concern was which gift I was to open first. Somewhere along the way the child inside of me has been suffocated with stockings and choked with coal and yet he is still desperately struggling to cling onto the mantle. Christmas 2016 I came out to my family, and introduced them to my significant other. But the child inside was not ready to accept anything out of the ordinary, even if his family was perfectly fine with it. The child was utterly ashamed and disgusted with the sinful affairs of the sodomite that took his place, and immediately had to cleanse his soul. My heart aches for the broken child lost to my own desires. I miss the memories shared with my relatives, free from awkward silences and averted eye contact. I miss when gifts were delivered on a deer-drawn sleigh and not smuggled in through my pockets. I miss getting excited over the bright lights and the snow globes, before my selfishness stole it all away. On New Years 2016 I hanged my depraved self up like the stockings the child would not take down, although my mother found the sight to be in poor taste, especially after the holidays had ended. I remember when my spirits would be lifted around this time of year, and I miss that feeling so much. Now it just reminds me of all the memories I have tainted.