I don’t think that I can do holidays this year. It’s too sad and too awful. I want to go to bed until they’re over. Most of the time I ignore it. Pretend she’s not dead. I keep myself busy with a million and one things usually. But next week there’s going to be nothing to do, except be sad. I don’t want to celebrate. I don’t want to pretend I’m grateful. I don’t want to see people, but I also really don’t want to be alone. I hope no one ever feels like this, but am also haunted by the fact that everyone eventually will. I mean the lucky ones will. The lucky ones, or the left behind ones, depending on how you look at it.

These are my first holidays since my mom died. I can’t believe the time slipped away so quickly. Both while she was here, and after she was gone. The air is thinner in the after than I ever thought it would be. Nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything is different. I wish sadness would stop stalking me like a jungle cat.

This. Is. The. Worst.