For as long as I can remember, I've hated holidays. Why? Because holidays are usually occasion for family gatherings, and my family hates each other. Then why not just stay with immediate family, you ask? Because they hate each other, too! No, it's not just a "I-can't-stand-her-talking-with-them" kind of hate, but an actual "let's argue because I don't like you or anything you do." And it's funny, because the only time we have a "family reunion" and reflect and ignore our trivial differences for a moment is when someone dies. Real mature, guys!
Holidays are such a big let down. Eff you Brady Bunch, for giving me expectations during my childhood that everyone would be happy and just forget about their problems and understand the "spirit of Christmas" or the "nationalism behind the 4th of July."
And every year I stay with my family as hope that maybe, just maybe, this year will be different. No, fuck that.
So why am I writing this right now? Because I just realized/found out that Sunday is Easter, and that's the day I'm coming
home back to the bay. However, the earliest train (that I know I will definitely catch without sleeping in too much) will get me there by 3pm, well after Mass with my mom and Brunch festivities with my parents. The thought of missing that made me sad... for a couple of seconds. My latest update is that they don't understand each other,
to say the least.
Spring break back in the bay is starting to stress me out more than finals.
That's why I like my birthday. Just celebrate me, bitches.
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