Christmas Hell.

It is a cold winter day. I'm in polluted Ohio, which according to a country song is for lovers. I see no love or lovers. Country songs lie. All I see is cold kids running into their homes and the occasional argument between a husband and wife. "Timmy want's a new game!" the wife says. "Well, Timmy needs to learn he can't have everything he wants!" says the husband angrily. I roll my eyes and continue helping my mother with the cheerful Christmas decorations.

After an hour of my stressed mother verbally abusing the Christmas lights, we rejoice in relaxation. This is Christmas. Not joy or happiness, but being mentally abused by stress and sleeping. I bet that the three wise men didn't have to shop at Wal-Mart and avoid mall traffic.

I think of the children in other countries. Do they have presents? What about dinner? Maybe a wreath or two? In my opinion, it's sick that we spend so much on dinky Christmas presents and materials when there are kids in our own country starving. Hell, maybe i'm starving and cold? Maybe my neighbor is? How would you know? Even if you did know, would you care?

Christmas is depressing. I cannot wait until it's over.