O la navidad- the lost magic

This year it simply didn't feel like Christmas.
No holly.
No jolly.
No ho-ho-ho-ing.
I just felt tragically ordinary.
My marine, we'll call him David, came home finally. It's been seven months but he made it back for Christmas. Shouldn't that have put me in an extra-fantastic Christmas spirit? I thought it should.
But it didn't.
I spent my Christmas in a thinking cycle interrupted with slight satisfactions. Mostly my mind was in a constant turmoil questioning my every move.
It's that whole process of figuring out what we want right?
Right.
My mind has been somewhere else whilst I carried on in these holiday festivities.
When snacking on Christmas eve with the family my mind wandered to--"Why is my dad being such a grouch? Can't he smile?"
When lying on the couch watching Christmas specials my mind wandered to--"I used to love these. I used to think Christmas was so magical and filled with possibility. What happened? Why does today feel like any other?"
When playing taboo while the fire crackled my mind wandered to-- "When can I go see David and his Christmas?"
When I went to David's I wondered--"I wonder if everyone here really wants us to get married. I wonder if they can tell I have no true intentions of marrying this boy. I wonder if they can see I'm distant, or that David treats me like chop liver, or that I love this family but hate being with him sometimes?"
Over and over and over my mind cycled. And that was only Christmas eve.
It's lost it's magic. The sacred magic I so valued only a few years ago. How could I have misplaced it?
And I wonder.
Shall I ever find it again?
I'd sure like to.
Maybe it all went back to when I found out that Santa Claus isn't real.
I'm just babbling now.
But my babbling directly reflects the way my mind is functioning at the moment. Lost. confused. A maelstrom of doubt, wonder, and hope.
This can't be it for my Christmases.
Such an idea is devastating.
I want the magic back.
I know that.
I know that in life I will always want hope of the possibility. I can never give up on what is possible because if I gave up on something like possibility what would be left to live for?
You know those empty shell people? The kind of people that follow routine, go day to day living monotonous, prosaic, and mundane. Do you think it's because they're too afraid to venture outside of this box and comfort cycle? Or perhaps it's because they don't know how to go about changing it? Change is a scary thing. I'll admit.
I can be afraid of it as well. But i try to embrace it.
Anyway.
These empty shell people.
My dad is one of those. Sad. The truth can be sad.
He gave up on life a long time ago I think. He had this huge potential early on in life that he never went after because he never had ambition. All the doors were there. I can't even call them doors because they were more like sirens blaring in his face screaming for him to take a chance that he never took.
Now.
I think he regrets ignoring those sirens.
And because of it-- he's dead inside.
I don't want that- ever.
I can't help but wonder is that a result of a lifetime of disappointment? I think not.
I think it's due to available opportunities that he thought would always be there but disappeared with a blink of an eye when he denied them. He killed the possibilities. Hope was lost in his mind. Gave up.
I never want to give up on hope.
I know that happens to a lot of people, and at eighteen I haven't been 'jaded' enough in life to let my hope die. I hope I'm always strong enough to keep it alive.
....
So how does this connect to my beginning start of talking about Christmas?
Losing hope in the spirit of Christmas? Realizing the possibility of Santa Claus is fraudulent?
I think it connects to expectations, and disappointment, which all relates to losing hope.
Which I'll never lose.
I apologize to anyone reading this. Probably made little to no sense. But. I feel slightly better after writing it.

Until next time,
C.R. Daniels