Every single Christmas.. I come home, I put in some effort no matter how little cash I have. I get presents for the family etc and I even get a little excited in the run up to Christmas Day. Then I get home Christmas Eve and it’s great. I’m happy to be here, everyone is great. Then Christmas Day comes and boom. Family argument. The past is dragged up, everybody starts screaming at each other and everyone is ready to hit each other. My mother starts preaching about managing anger when she was the first to lash out and scream in the past. But this time she is not to blame. I probably am.. well actually.. my brother’s ridiculous rage is. Then my mother says you have no reason to be so aggressive being brought up the way you have. I go against this and she starts at me again. Christmas is ruined. Who cares who is to blame. It’s ruined, it always is ruined. Every year. Because all this pressure is put on this one poxy day that reaches an anti-climactic point of no return. Now my house is empty. I’m in my room. Alone. I haven’t botehred getting dressed today. I haven’t bothered showering. I planned on staying days but I’ll probably go back tomorrow. Because what’s the point in staying in a place where you’re hated and despised for ruining a day that nobody in your house even believes in or holds dear to them. It’s about family they say. What family.