Rectitude Or Solitude: Dear Santa

"Where are you and do you like me?"

It's been a while since I've opened up a page to blog. It's been a while since I decided that words were to be abandoned. I nicked myself on the razor sharp double edged sword that can be attributed to the brilliance and power of words and have resented all forms of communication ever since. It's a funny thing, when you think that you've got everything sorted. Everyone and everything in your life falls into these neatly marked compartments that you've synthesized to suit your own needs and you start wondering why there's so much sadness in the world. Not the real kind of sadness that is meant to happen but the unnecessary kind - the drama. [Don't ask me to delve into deciphering between the two any further, you either know what I mean or you don't. This whole post is a bit like that actually, you either get it or you don't. Actually, I'm kind of like that too.] Then once again shit falls apart, people do things to prove that they're not who you thought they were and you're kind of left there to simmer in shit. Shit that you had as much as a part in as anyone else - you should've known better.

Seeing that I'm done with uni, I work retail and it's almost Christmas it's safe for anyone to assume that I've been spending a shit load of time at work. All the Christmas cheer and forced good moods are slowly killing me inside but every now and then things happen that get me thinking. Little golden nuggets of human behaviour and goodness shine through all the shit to reveal something else about who the fuck humans are and what on earth they think they're doing. One day I was walking swiftly through the kidswear department where faux-Santa's faux North Pole home was set up with a little mail box and all. Children post their greedy little letters asking for brightly coloured, overpriced Chinese imports in this little mail box while their mothers wander aimlessly through the ugly clothes. On this day, however, there was a little girl child who politely came up to me and asked for a pen and paper. At first I was irritated because not only was I on my way home but I also completely abhor children but this girl was too polite to be abhorred and as I was walking away she was reading her letter out loud as she was writing,

"Dear Santa,
Where are you and do you like me?"

This got me thinking: how great would it be if we knew everyone's answers to that question? It would save so much time, so many hurt feelings, so much drama. Everytime I realise that drama is inevitable I die a little inside.

All I want for Christmas is solitude.