I enjoy Christmas. My thoughts enter a kind of truce; suicidal ideation is postponed until the new year. It refuses to associate itself with the holiday, unwilling to spoil the season. Twinkling lights and familiar melodies are meant to bring peace and joy, not summon memories of loss. And so Christmas is a carefree holiday from melancholy. It is a break from the constant rumination and a chance to be of good cheer, if only for a few weeks.
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