Firstly, I do not hate Christmas. But I need to concisely break my silence about what I have been putting up with over the years.
I am not thrilled about acting thrilled about every gift I receive. I am extremely grateful, but not ecstatic. I am not sure how many more times I can keep faking this metaphorical orgasm. I am not sure if I can feel joy anymore. I understand happiness as an intellectual concept but it touches nothing in my heart. My heart exists as an organ, a pump that persists and insists on distributing oxygenated blood around my body to keep the cells alive. I am tired.
Also, I particularly miss someone at this time of the year. He used to send me (and many others) a card every year. He has now passed on but I still think about him. His name is Kheng Meng.
I promised I would be concise. That is all.