As a child I remember looking forward to the whole Christmas holiday season with glee. The lights on all of the houses, the brilliant decorations, decorating the Christmas tree, it was all a package that I could count on receiving every year.

Now however the joy of the holidays and the awe of celebration and lights have seemed to fade from their spectacular glow in to a dull and bitter flicker. I, for the first time since I was fourteen, participated in my family's Christmas celebrations. I was not allowed to go last year as if I went certain members of the family would not, and it was my Grandfather's last Christmas-and last birthday.

The very reason that had kept me away for all of those years was no longer a problem for me, he no longer terrified him and I viewed him with as much fear as respect-which if you cannot guess is absolutely none. In fact instead all I felt when I heard his voice or I happened to catch him in my gaze was a rush of red hot fury and fiery hatred. Yet I was still terribly depressed throughout what should have been a joyous occasion.

I find that Christmas has sadly lost it's last touch of joy for me. Which is sad in a way, but perhaps a good thing. Next year when I got to celebrate with my family again, maybe I will go expecting nothing but disappointment, and be met with pleasant and happy surprise.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not whining or complaining, I'm not even sad. I'm oddly numb to it all, but somehow optimistic that next year will go better then this one. On a plus side to this year however, everyone who actually talked to me was very nice...well, almost everyone.