this is the year

this is the year we won't talk about the horror of the holidays. this is the year you won't tell me how much your family sucks and oh, the laughs we would have had over my in laws. i don't meant big and mirthful but in the back of the throat and suppressed in the chest - the way we did. this is the year that we won't talk about seasonal affection disorder and whether we have it or not. this is the year that . . . well, this is the year that i go it alone.

i wish for you that you are at peace. i wish for you that, seasonal affection disorder has given way to eternal spring. i wish for you that the pain that haunted you is no more.

but if those things aren't possible then know how i hate you for leaving me all by myself.