Black Jacket

I don't care for Christmas cards about you anymore ever since you ended near Christmas. Maybe with each person I meet I inhale a bit more cynicism, or maybe I just hate Christmas because it reminds me of all the people who can't come home. I'd trade places with them any day, they at least miss their families and I know I cannot take another hour of my mother rambling about HGTV. I know you're coming home for Christmas and we'll most likely meet but every word you type feels empty when I see that you had read it but not replied. I don't know how I can love such a pompous asshole but I do. I remember we had a trial run to see how good we would be together but I decided to end it since you were just in it for sex, even though I never gave you any. I hate how I always come back to you at Christmas.
What an awful fucking holiday.