Dear Santa (Because it worked for Amy Pond),
It’s Christmas tomorrow and I’m miserable. This has been one of the worst weeks I’ve ever had at work and I’m miserable. I don’t want presents from you. I just things to go back to the way they were. I want to go back to not hating my job and being able to go home and feel like I’m a person, rather than a collection of illnesses and exhaustion.
Life is short and mine will likely be even shorter. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I belong on The Island of Misfit Toys like the train with square wheels – completely unequipped to function in the world.
Santa, I’m not asking for a hot boyfriend or to magically lose weight or to win the lottery or even for my RA to go into remission. All I’m asking is for you to make things suck less. Not even, “I want to be happy.”…just, “I want to be less miserable.” I don’t think that’s asking a lot. And don’t tell me this is supposed to build character. I have more than enough of that, thanks.
I have had two previous Christmases where I was this low. One involved work and the other involved depression. This time it’s both. I’m going to hang my stocking and hope you put a solution in it. Don’t be a dick, Santa. I’m counting on you.
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