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December 25th

Drained.

The Anti-climax has fizzled and all I can do is wait for sleep. It must be here soon.

Visited the graveyard and counted the dead flowers. Dozens and dozens of dead ones and in the middle a live sunflower reaching for the night.

Maggie 8 on repeat. The Christmas car journey CD. 4 tracks in a loop. Repetition.

I do not want the things I do not have. Except I do. I kind of always will. I am looking for something thats missing.I always have been. Now and again I find it for a minute and then it's snatched away.

Gone.

A nice dinner and nothing before. Nothing after. Terrible television and things I cannot play.

It's dark and it's cold and everyone is ill.

I don't want what you have given me. Why would I?

Long distance video calls to people having a better time.

A pencil. A fucking pencil?

Christmas socks that I can't wear for another year.

Looking at the lights through the fog and wondering how they are on.

Slime and glue everywhere. Everywhere.

Burning the packaging as fast as it's unwrapped.

Loop it.

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