Christmas is a terrible time of year for us, the second-class lovers. The long distance flames, the pets and playthings.
"Go on," they say to us. "It's Christmas. You should be with your family."
And we beam so bright for them and nod and smile and agree, so full of love as they turn away.
Then we whisper to the away messages and closed connections.
I thought I was part of yours.
My fate was sealed
- they/she/fae
Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky ~ disaster queer ~ autism & cptsd ~ 43yrs
housecat irl
I play a yinglet on the internet
ΘΔ
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in reply to @contextual's post:
Issa's birthday is the 23rd. She told me across her whole life I'm the only partner who's ever been present for her birthday before last year, because every other one had gone home for christmas and not even brought her along.
Naturally I am never going to leave her on christmas again, because fuck me running
