Please don’t ask me why I detest the holidays. There’s no deep-rooted psychological reason. There’s no underyling trauma. No, I was not beaten with a wreath or strangled with garland in my youth. No, I was not molested by Santa. Or even an elf. And it’s not because one year I saw Mommy doing more than just kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe.
The same people who ask why I abhor the holidays also ask me why I don’t drink or eat meat. Or why I don’t want to have kids. Or why I’m not married. Or why why why a thousand other things.
These are the same people who tell me to “smile” on the street. And the ones who ask me why I walk so fast. And where I’m going, and where the fire is.
To these people who question anything I may do or not do that is not what they have chosen to do or not do, I offer this in response: