Dear those downstairs,
This isn’t my first letter to you but might be the first to reach you. Christmas is approaching fast and with it feelings that I don’t like too much. The songs everybody love fill me with sadness and make it hard to breathe. Presents, laughter and games will attempt to unite the broken and erase the past. I will be there in body but not in spirit. My mind will be upstairs under my duvet and crying by myself. Maybe I will wrap this letter up for you this year and give you something real. If not, I will stay here by myself and as usual, I won’t be home for Christmas.