That said, I don't know what I expect to find each and every Christmas Eve. I guess I keep waiting for that George Bailey epiphany, that TSO-esque endless night of perfection: cold air, snow, that special girl, a modest Christmas tree, conversation and old movies, etc. And while this seems oddly specific and probably demanding far too much, a part of me feels like this is a simple request, something not at all complicated or asking too much. Yet at the same time, each year that goes by feels like that moment of perfection gets farther and farther away. Its not like I'm in despair or am losing faith, but it's more like I'm expecting that to happen less and less. I'm caring less and less about whether or not that actually happens. I feel like it's becoming more and more an unobtainable fantasy, that such a thing could never be. Who knows. At this point, I almost feel so far removed from human relationships on any kind of a romantic level, that it wouldn't surprise me if such a thing just never came into existence.
Though I'm just whining at this point, really. I've got my friends, my family, and my guitar. I've got two of the best bosses in the world, whom I adore. I was with them today, and even just hung out for an hour or so after I was 'off the clock'. It was a good day, a good time there. And for that, I'm grateful. Something's still missing. Maybe I'll find it. Maybe I won't. Whether I do or don't, is almost fine with me.
At least I'll have company, here among the ghosts that have failed. Here in the safety of night, this night, Christmas Eve...
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