Around this time every year, I am always reminded about the duality of my peronality. Recently, a friend of mine commented on how I was the most misanthropic person he had ever met, including himself. He sees things that sadden him about humanity, but I see more, apparently.

During Christmas, I suppose that it hits home this fact, because no matter what, I always try to be hopeful. I always hope that one day, we will all realize that we are the most destructive, disgusting, and inhumane race ever introduced to Existence, and take drastic steps to alter that. I hope that Christmas and whatever other winter "peace be to you" holiday of love and caring that is celebrated will shake something loose in these animal brains of ours.

And yet, I know this won't happen, misanthropy sets in again, and I hide myself in 24 hour Christmas carols, and endless showings of White Christmas, and Muppets, using it as an emotional cocktail of novacaine and cocaine, numbing me and giving me the will to go on with my life as if I didn't care about my fellow man, even though on the surface, I appear to whenever I pass a Salvation Army bell ringer.

I do love this season of bells, and bright paper. I do love this season of togetherness and eclectically decorated trees. I just don't love what it stands for.

Happy Christmas, all.