People in my town have always loved Christmas and everything it stands for. The presents, reuniting with friends and family, lovely songs… And I agree, it is beautiful, except for one thing that ruined my childhood… Santa.

It all started when I was five years old. This year Santa decided to put the gifts in a different place that wasn’t under the tree, my closet. And then you’d think: What’s wrong with that? This is where my mind went wild. Santa was in my room while I was sleeping. I repeat, a stranger came into my room while I was asleep. But that’s not the worst part, and don’t blame me for what I’m about to say because I was very little and didn’t know better. I was mostly scared because a fat guy could slip, fall on me, and suffocate me to death. I promise I’m not discriminating against any person by their looks. It was just something I imagined could or would happen to me.

That experience changed my whole perspective of this holiday. Instead of it being a joyful holiday, it became a day I wouldn’t like to live again. Even my family made fun of me by pretending to be Santa and everything. While all the other kids enjoyed being on Santa’s lap in school and telling him what they wanted for the 25thI was crying on the floor.

I look back at it now that I’ve grown up and laugh at what happened; back then, I was definitely creative since I am now certain that Santa will never hurt me.

 

Image Credits: Freepik