the christmas cheer solidifies the precise instant following the other precise instant somebody opened the window, you know, to "let some fresh air in" and "it's getting a little stuffy". The cheer transforms into a different Sub Stance altogether. it is now Guilt.
oh the guilt.
the horror of having thrown some part of you away. The miniscule joy of having a reason to be so miserable every now and again. Followed by hatred for a concept ungraspable by anyone. You don't even know yourself and you bloody came up with it you tw4t!
guilt. or is it stomach acid? difficult to tell. Anyway, my christmas is ruined by guilt and hatred for something related to my actions but i wouldn't dare to attempt to address that aspect. It could potentially ruin my holidays! that'd be a bad idea.
Vive le punk!- and fat bastards on sleighs pretending to be santa too. They have to be the best element of 'bastardisation of a holiday', containing easily generalisable proportions of differential particles essential to produce this particular sensation.
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