Christmas, 1.

I haven't written a word in ages and that could lead you to the assumption that I was all busy cleaning up the mess of my life and/or celebrating exciting parties for christmas. That, dear non-existing reader, is wrong. I was a bit busy being unhappy and I worked a couple of extra shifts at work to distract me from being merely unhappy. Which was only half a succsess. And I too went to a christmas party last week but it turned out rather desasterous with me kissing somebody again and doing that over and over again without it leading anywhere is just simply not such a good idea. Drunk too much to remember everything clearly. That's bad too. Naturally I assume having been all disgraceful and embarassing and very very annoying. I did not have the nerve yet to find out how much of that assumption is really true. Fearing the truth.
I waved goodbye to one of my favourite collegues monday night, he's finally leaving for mexico next week. I'll miss him. Listing all these things makes me think that I really fall for people too easily. That I temporarily fall in love too easily too. Singns of how freakin' unhappy and lonesome I am most of the time. I'm jealous of all people in relationships around me, even though not few of the are just plain desperate together.
And all that stupid talk about heartaches and stupiities cannot disguise the actual cause of my being down: it's christmas and my mom is dead. Everything in my life is affected by that line: My mom is dead.
Due to that I don't have a real christmas anymore and I missed it these days, realizing that it will never be like it used to be all my life. What we did do was okay, under these circumstances probably even good. Nobody cried in front of the others. No real hard feelings, sadness ortrue desperation. Cooking, eating, candles, a little wine, some gifts. Three people loving each other in the weird family way. All united in carefully avoiding to touch the shared memories. Avoiding to touch our wounded hearts.