Merry Christmas Mother Effers

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

I sent my phone flying across the room in the hope it would magically stop the call and I would get some more sleep. It didn't unsurprisingly, and now I had actually get out of my bed.

Ugh.

Outside was cold. My room was cold. The floor was cold. But most importantly I was cold. I hate being cold.

In the next room I could hear my little sisters jumping around excitedly. Why are they up at such an ungodly hour?

Oh yeah it was Christmas. Ew.

Oh, and by the way, I can hear you. You, you optimistic lover of the holiday. You disgust me.

"Why would you hate Christmas?"
"How can you be so ugh!"
"But it's the best time of the year!"

Yeah it's totally the best time of the year. The best time of the year to get trampled by crazy shoppers. The best time of the year to get frostbite. The best time of the year to freeze your ass off all night.

Christmas isn't even supposed to be in December! Technically we're all celebrating a Pagan holiday every year! It's commercialized bull shit, and everyone's too caught up it "the holiday season" to notice it. We are literally surrounding months of our lives to big name companies, because that's what it's all about. Toys, money, and the perfect meal.

Don't worry, I'm not just a hater of Christmas, you can also buy my opinion on all holidays for just $0.00.
Here it is folks, your free chance to hear my honest opinions: All holidays are effing stupid and annoying and frustrating and a waste of time.

Why?

Simple. Every single holiday has ended in a screaming match.

Every. Single. One.

That's fifteen years of bad memories.

My family denies them and claims holidays are the happiest memories I have. I have a strong NO B.S. policy, so I don't buy it.

🎄🖕🏻🎄🖕🏻🎄🖕🏻🎄🖕🏻🎄🖕🏻🎄🖕🏻🎄

One hour later and my family of four is sitting around a tree with hot chocolate and candy canes. Generic wrapping paper is strewn across the room and for once my sisters aren't fighting, in fact they're not even talking. It's a Christmas miracle.

And then we pile into the car to see my dad. Ho, Ho, Help Me.

When we pull into his driveway at 11:27 in the morning on December 25, 2015 my anxiety is through the roof. My baddest bitch face was my favorite facade, but it was Christmas so I tried to smile.

Then out came his girlfriend.

Never mind.

My sisters and mom stayed in the car, they were going to see their dad. I was alone. I honestly hated being alone with my dad and his girlfriend.

You know the stories where the stepmom is half your dads age. And she's blonde and overly happy and secretly hates you. Yeah well Holly was none of those things. She was two years older than my dad, and a brunette, and she tells me she hates me everyday. In front of my dad. Who does nothing. So yeah.

I didn't even do anything that bad. In eighth grade I made a mess when my friend spent the nice and it made her blow up. I see my dad like three times a year now. So much for unconditional love.

We go into the house that's not a home. I see a tree with a lot of presents. I know for a fact only about five of them are mine. I didn't give my dad a list this year.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. I can't do this. No. No. No.

But I smile and open the gifts. I laugh at jokes and smile for pictures. I play the part of the perfect daughter in the perfect family. Everyone acing their roles, just for this day. On the inside I'm shaking and crying and screaming and I just want to go home. But it's CHRISTMAS it's the best time of the year so I play my part, because I still want my dad to love me and I still want my dad to ask me over and I need to pretend so that he will love me. Because secretly in the very bottom of my being I do like Christmas. But I can't. I can't like it because it's fake. It's all fake. And the little girl who wants her daddy is inside of me and she wants to pretend that she thinks it's not fake. But I know the truth. The truth sucks.