When I was about 6 or 7 or 7 or 8 I had a best friend who was still shocked to hear I believe in Santa Claus. I ran to my sister’s room, “Mbali ! Mbali ! Karma says Santa Claus isn’t real, but he is, right ?” Hesitation on her face. “Yeah..” she said. “See ! I told you Karma.” In that moment of hesitation My sister had given me The greatest Christmas gift I could’ve asked for. She let me be a child, even if just for a litte while longer. They sealed my fate the minute they brought me in to this world the least they could do was let me be a kid even if just for a little while longer. But I’m an adult now. An adult who’s been exiled from paradise. And I miss it, more than anything I miss it. Because I had it. I had paradise ! and I lost it, and what kills me isn’t that I lost it, but the inevitability of it all the predictability of it all, the cruelty of it all. Because eventually everyone gets tired of pretending no matter how long you persist eventually, everyone gets tired even you. Tired, of pretending that fairies or magical reindeers are for real
“Enough ! No more talk of when a fairy came to visit you.”
Tired, of pretending it wasn’t your father eating all those Christmas cookies. Tired, of pretending miracles from the sky are real or lasting joy is for real
”Just as long, as you’re on your best behavior !”
Tired, of living for the promise of tomorrow because
“It gets better, just wait and see.”
Tired, of pretending that life is a gift and that anything means anything anymore. It’s time for you to grow up now. No more pretending, about anything I'm tired. It’s time for you to grow up now. Well I’m an adult now, And I once asked my nephew who was then but a kid
“What does being an adult mean to you ?”
And he said
“Taxes, stress and more taxes.” Christmas is over.