I walk past the store fronts. Dolls stare at me from behind the glass, begging me to buy them. Large signs with bright colors try their best to manipulate me. Obnoxious music that is way overplayed blares through the slightly dysfunctional speaker system. Sales people accost me. Different scents bombard my nose until I have a headache. Smiles are plastered on people’s faces, but I know that they are dying inside. The amount of stress put on family members, friends, coworkers, is ridiculous. There is a forced fun atmosphere. This isn’t fun anymore.
Even at school, it is present. The teachers constantly remind us of what we have to look forward to, the good and bad. I walk through the hallways. Hidden among the maroon, black, and white are little reminders of what’s drawing near. A green bow tie here. A red poster there. A tree on your tie. A reindeer on your tie. Christmas tie, Christmas tie, Christmas tie… one right after another. I explode. “It’s not even December!” “But Belle, we love Christmas.” Yeah, well, I don’t.
I don’t hate it. I don’t really mind it. I just don’t care about it anymore. Presents don’t excite me anymore. My mom’s threats of taking away my presents if I don’t behave don’t work anymore. I really just don’t care. Finally, I understand how my brothers could sleep in when I was awake at seven. Now I sleep until ten.
I’ve been singing carols for two months now. “We must start preparing earlier than usual” just means I must endure the torture longer than usual. I waste my voice on falala’s and hohoho’s. It’s not special anymore. It won’t be until the 20th. It’s just mindless music.
What ruined it for me? Sure, my maturing would have lessened the appeal. But it must be more then that. The others, they don’t mind. I think back to the past. The last good Christmas I had was in ’07. I snuck a look early in the morning. The door was cracked. As I peered in, everything seemed to shimmer. The wrapping paper was gold, and the sun was shining through the windows. It was beautiful. I don’t even remember the presents I got. I just remember that sight.
But ever since then, the actual event hasn’t met the hype. I’m constantly disappointed, let down. After a while, I just kind of stopped expecting so much. Christmas is not perfect. It will never be perfect. The warm, gooey, perfect vision that’s constantly on the television? Yeah, that doesn’t exist. At least not for my family. There is no gather around the fire with hot coco. There is no mutual understanding and acceptance. There are no spontaneous, yet perfect harmonies. It’s a normal family event. There is tension and comfort, arguing and thanking, crying and smiling. So why build all the hype, only to be let down?
Winter is lovely. Sledding, sweaters, coffee, forts, snow days, and break. Yes I like winter. But not because of Christmas.
I don’t mind Christmas. I mind the hype, the build up. Because in the end, I’m only disappointed.
Scrooge… I feel you.