This time of year I just get down. I know there are "family history" reasons and whatnot, but you'd think with all the time between then and now, I'd be able to move past it and find a way to enjoy the holidays. To be fair, I do enjoy them, in my own way. The idea of the "Christmas spirit", the season of giving, when friends and families come together, gifts are given, food is shared, people feel oddly more charitable toward each other than usual, or perhaps just stop to think about it or act on it more... this should be my kind of holiday season. Instead I find myself sitting by the window, looking out at the cold and snow, sipping coffee, as an an overwhelming sense of melancholy settles over me like an unwanted, too-heavy, weighted blanket... pressing down, making everything more difficult and the world feel hopeless. I cry for no discernable reason. I just sit here and cry. It's stupid and frustrating, but there it is. Every year, the same thing.