Forlorness

"Why am I here? Why was I not consulted?"
--Dostoevsky

I am homeless.

Truth is, I don't have a home, which is just so sad because, well, everyone should have a home.

I am a Scrooge.

So I'm skipping Christmas. No offense, Jesus, but I refuse to let a holiday rub the pitiful state of my existence in my face. I know that already. It's all I can think about, really.

Christmas puts too much pressure on people to be happy. It's only for the loved and successful; to the unloved and poor, it is brutal. What about those of us who do not have a beloved or a family? What of us who do not have money? Do we not deserve Christmas?

Everything- the carols, the decor, the people in the festive mood- reminds us of how unfit we are for the Season of Joy. Christmas is all over the place-- it will not let us forget that we do not belong. For a holiday that aims to commemorate the birth of the Savior of the world, Christmas is quite the snob.

Well, my pathetic life will not be discriminated against! Not again!

I would like to pull a Heidegger.

What I would really like to do is put myself on exile. I would like to live in a forest, all by myself. I am starting to really hate the world.

I am dense and stupid.

I don't see how people can not care about other people. Excuse me, they are people, just like you. Do you not understand the gravity of that statement? I mean seriously.

I am determined.

I have but one new year's resolution: stop being nice. I think I'll start today.