It's been a long time since I've written you. I've never been too keen on receiving gifts, especially since I never really got what I really wanted as a child, so I just haven't thought to write over the last few years. I wasn't sure you ever read my letters, or even ever visited my house. On Christmas morning, I found your leftover cookies untouched in the kitchen.
But this year, I've made a Christmas Wish List that I must share with you.
Santa, if you have any power at all, could you please bring me at least one of the following this Christmas?
- someone to enjoy my Christmas tree besides me
- a Christmas party
- a tub of Heluva Good French Onion dip
- peace of mind
- a sense of purpose
- someone to kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve
- a replacement heart, for mine is too broken
And now, by writing you, I am facing one of my greatest fears: that you don't exist, and that there's nobody out there to help me, to give me something I ask for, to give me the help I so desperately need.
Or, maybe you do exist, but you've just chosen to skip over me. Or you couldn't find me. Have you been looking for me?
Santa, please find me this Christmas, and if not Christmas, then definitely New Year's night.
Much gratitude in advance,
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