I am about to fly out to spend the holidays with my family. I don't want to go. I don't care about the celebration of the birth of Jesus. I don't care about it at all.
I don't want to see those people who couldn't find the balls to call me and say how shitty life has been. I don't want to sit and smile and eat and talk crap.
But I have to go. I have to go for my daughter that's here with us. I have to enjoy it for her. I have to smile and sing and pretend that its the most exciting time of the year. You see I have to do a lot of pretending these days. Of course we are sad in front of Minnie but sometimes I have to pretend that I am happy to be out of bed and happy to be at the park and happy to be hanging out with all those other mum's and babies.
I don't want to go because for the first time, I will be away from our little Alice. Away from her little box of treasures and away from her little urn. I am already anxious about it.
I am not in a good mood today, just in case you hadn't picked that up...