Christmas

Christmas feels empty this year— not sad, just hollow. Winter break isn’t a break, it’s a deadline wearing lights. Time measured in guilt, not rest. I sit with family while my mind works ahead, choosing survival over presence, future over now. The tree glows, the songs play, but I can’t feel them. Joy feels conditional. Rest feels dangerous. And Christmas passes quietly, waiting for a version of me that has time to believe in it again.