Sometimes I just wish my holidays could be spent drinking and eating mashed potatoes and watching horror movies at home. Not that I don't like spending time with family. But this Thanksgiving feels different. I can't seem to get into it today. I don't want to be anywhere. I want to go back to sleep. Or get drunk and write bad poetry. Or curl up with some coffee by myself and read. With no one talking to me or asking me if I'm okay or wanting me to do something for them.
I'm sitting in the bedroom of my boyfriend's mom's house waiting for my turn to take a shower. Then I will go downstairs, be the fattest person in the house, be ultra self conscious while I'm eating, get a stomach ache from the anxiety, then drive the two hours home. Repeat every year.
Happy Fucking Thanksgiving.