Tomorrow these lights will have no seasonal relevance and it'll be just another one of the 364 days of the year waiting for this holiday. These trees will simply be evergreens sitting in our living rooms and these presents will be wasted money. This year things felt off, it missed the spark the season usually brings. It's been one holiday party after another, and my conscious had continually begged my heart to believe I'm glad he never fell in love with me. Because maybe this next year it'll be as I always imagined and this is all happening for a reason. If this season is magic like they say, then just like magic it will be ok. I looked around the empty living room and flicked the light off, meandering into the hall.
Both of us changed this year. I stopped running from what I really want. I threw myself at him 100 mph giving him every reason to give his everything back to me. He shook his head ever so slowly and told me repeatedly he was sorry. He never gave me a reason and he left my words "I love you," lingering in the burning air.
He was right after all, it was my fault. It always is. Who falls in love with someone in love with someone else? Who falls in love with the man who'll never see her the same way? I threw off my holiday
sweater to the floor, where it fell without a thud and laid down in bed
So I'll convince myself tonight I'm glad he's miles away. And I'll wonder if he's thinking about me too, but if I want to sleep, I'll be sure to tell myself I'm still definitely glad he never fell in love me.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the celebrating world. The world that had something to celebrate, unlike me. Suddenly the happy jingles and holiday cheers were silent. I was all alone in my bed, but its fine this way. I know that if he was here I'd get lost in his eyes and things would seem perfect, but they wouldn't be. Maybe right now we'd be having eggnog and I'd be crying tears of joy over the beautiful jewelry he got me. I'd tell him no, it was too much, but he'd insist I deserved it. He'd brush my hair back and tell me the past year had been the best one of his life because of me and I'd fall asleep in his arms, as Christmas music plays. Who would want that anyway?
My clock chimed next to me and I squinted one lid back open 12:01. Goodbye Christmas. Goodbye joyful choruses and the season I used to love. I guess it wasn't the seasons fault. It didn't make me tell him how I felt; I did that all on my own. But why didn't the season save me? Why didn't Christmas angels make him love me too? If their only reason was: it's not love if he doesn't feel it all year, then I don't understand Christmas. It's what I asked for, right? Santa couldn't give me my one wish? Even this time of year couldn't make him change his mind. I wouldn't want his love half heartedly, so really I'm relieved he never fell in love with me.
Just as my eyes flutter closed again, my mind began to relax and I couldn't hear anything but my own breathing, the front door chimed. In my sleepy state I couldn't put together what it could be at midnight on Christmas day. My mind jumped to a telemarketer, but then I realized that it makes no sense. Carolers? But Christmas is over. My curiosity got the best of me and I made my way to the door.
All I see when I open the door is a small wrapped box. It had a huge ribbon and oversize card. It glittered in my apartments dim hallway lights and the wrapping was so precise it didn't look manmade. I peaked my head out of the doorway to find no trace of anyone. I poked the package with my foot just in case, before taking it inside under my arm.

My couch was covered in wrapping paper I'd been too lazy to clean up, so I plopped on the floor, eyes wide waiting for the gift to come to life. My fingers ran to the large card. The front said Sam in beautiful italic gold. The inside was a simple piece of paper folded in half with a short note.

Sam,

I know what you wanted. Be patient.

Santa.

I was more confused than ever, not sure if I believed it or if I wanted to punch the person playing this practical joke. I started on the box next and I ripped the paper in hasty impatience. As the gift came forward I discovered it was a brown old leather bound journal. I was getting annoyed now, because anyone who knew me, should know I don't write journals. I flipped open the book to find it was already filled in. The person's handwriting was messy, but carefully crafted. The last entry was dated last week and I caught a glimpse of the author's name. It was Freddie, but I didn't want to read what I knew it said, so I tossed the papers into the crackling fire pit. I turned and shut off the light, just leaving the warm glow of the fire still illuminating the room. The book turned to the last page as it fell inside the fire.

She told me she loved me. I didn't know what to say back. I mean I've thought it over, but I didn't think it would happen. Was it awkward? I'm always awkward. I wish I would've said something. It could have been perfect, Is it too late now? I wonder if she knows I love her. I wonder if she knows I have pages full about her and I've never told a soul. I wonder if I make her feel, what she makes me feel, but mostly I hope I didn't break her heart. I don't really hope anymore though. I have to change what I did. If I wasn't always so scared, things could be perfect, but I am going to tell her before I never get the chance again. I want to tell her on the 26th when she knows it's not the season talking.

Freddie

~~~~~~ Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I love you for reading this, and I believe the ending could be happy unlike 90% of what I write ;]