All I want for Christmas is my sparkle back.

To be honest, my sparkle has been a bit dimmed for the last while. Like, the last couple of years at least, if not longer. I won’t harp on it, it was a bad period. My self-confidence reached an all-time low again, I felt uninspired, unmotivated, depressed, dull. No strut to my step, no shine to my tired smile, no sharpness to my thoughts, no interest to my words. But that’s enough of that. I want my sparkle back. Enough complaining, enough bitter thoughts about the lost time. It happened, now it’s done, survival mode deactivated, I no longer have to get through each day laboriously, like through a desert march. I am allowed to live. I am allowed to hope. I am allowed to be happy and enjoy myself.

The Christmas is coming soon and I am a hopeless enthusiast of all things Christmas, the kitsch, the endless carols and tacky decorations, it is the most sparkly of all times. I know, I get it why so many people don’t care for this holiday, but frankly, I don’t really give a damn. I can’t wait to delightedly drink my eggnog, and hot buttered rum, and eat my gingerbread, wear the most outrageous Christmas jumpers I can find and listen to Christmas songs on a loop while looking at the twinkling fairy lights, and watch all Doctor Who Christmas specials in a row, and put my Christmas Dalek and Owls and Dinosaurs on the tree, and hug my loved ones, and feel gooey, and warm and sparkly inside. There’s nothing religious for me about it, I am not religious, the best way to describe it comes obviously from a Doctor Who Christmas special: “On every world, wherever people are, in the deepest part of the winter, at the exact midpoint, everybody stops, and turns, and hugs, as if to say “Well done. Well done, everyone! We’re halfway out of the dark.”

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