dear santa
i've been thinking about this whole thing. this whole, christmas thing. and quite frankly: i couldn't give a toss.
i don't care in the slightest if you leave me a lump of coal, refuse to bring me a thing, or simply fly past my house.
i just simply don't get it.
all that i've been lead to believe about this time of year seems based on some kind of religious event.
so, i ask: where do you fit in? how did you become a figure so revered?
i'm not a person of faith, so why should i make believe that i am?
it vexes me that such... such reverence is placed on such a creation of imagination (more so than not).
i'm not saying that you are pure imagination (i'm sure there is truth embedded in there somewhere, it's simply hidden),it's just that, in the form i've been subject to over these modern years, appears as nothing more than creation of a fertile mind.
and the idea of you creeping into my house at night, in these dark days, is far more frightening than any ghost story i've ever heard around a camp fire.
so, i'm not writing to you to ask for something i neither need, want nor desire. instead, i'm writing to express to you my thoughts and notions.
to question you as i question many things. perhpas, then, that is the gift i seek. it is not something i desire, or need, or want, it's merely a curiosty that requires quenching.
would you do that for me?
could you do that for me?
will you do that for me?
sincerely,
(Kitsunegari)
i've been thinking about this whole thing. this whole, christmas thing. and quite frankly: i couldn't give a toss.
i don't care in the slightest if you leave me a lump of coal, refuse to bring me a thing, or simply fly past my house.
i just simply don't get it.
all that i've been lead to believe about this time of year seems based on some kind of religious event.
so, i ask: where do you fit in? how did you become a figure so revered?
i'm not a person of faith, so why should i make believe that i am?
it vexes me that such... such reverence is placed on such a creation of imagination (more so than not).
i'm not saying that you are pure imagination (i'm sure there is truth embedded in there somewhere, it's simply hidden),it's just that, in the form i've been subject to over these modern years, appears as nothing more than creation of a fertile mind.
and the idea of you creeping into my house at night, in these dark days, is far more frightening than any ghost story i've ever heard around a camp fire.
so, i'm not writing to you to ask for something i neither need, want nor desire. instead, i'm writing to express to you my thoughts and notions.
to question you as i question many things. perhpas, then, that is the gift i seek. it is not something i desire, or need, or want, it's merely a curiosty that requires quenching.
would you do that for me?
could you do that for me?
will you do that for me?
sincerely,
(Kitsunegari)
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