It is Christmas once again. Last Christmas, my heart belonged to someone who broke it this year.
Amid the festivities, parties and merriment, I feel alone. Accustomed to the excruciating reality that no one will love me for who I am, this loneliness feels bittersweet.
I am sick of who I have become. Weak, defenseless, fragile to a fault; how can I continue to pretend to be fine? There are days when I feel like hiding somewhere, blocking out everything that would bring tears to my eyes.
Waking up to every morn that breaks me down a little more takes its toil. Some nights I try to sleep and hope I feel nothing. Not anymore.
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