I wished that this year, Christmas would be.. magical. I had hoped not to use that word. Too commercialised and of-the-secular-world. I wished that it would be fuss-free. I wished that I could truly appreciate the real meaning of Christmas, that the Saviour of the world was born this day, ages ago. I wished that nothing would make me feel otherwise, make me think of the ugly side of an otherwise festive occasion.

But wishes are just wishes. Wishful thinking.
So horribly busy. Busy busy busy. Commitments. And I thought I was not spontaneous in joining activities.
All these fuss and running about. Somehow tainting this whole.. thing. Making it somewhat ugly. Making it imperfect.

Well, there's about 6 hours more to Christmas. Perhaps there's hope yet.

There is a certain apprehension in me. That I don't want to do certain things even though I had said yes, nodded my head, signed up for it, pledged my commitment to. And I don't know how to go around it like how some people do so easily.
Either I quit, or.. God, give me the right heart to go through it, and the strength.