Originally posted on my blog:

I remember as a child looking at our Christmas tree, tall and robust, and I’d be ecstatic as I looked at the leaves acting as curtains which would fall short, revealing a multitude of presents which were based on what aunts and uncles thought would be what you’d want. The tree would be decorated with shades of red and gold, with the curtain of green leaves beneath it. Topped with an angel, her face sweet and soft, her dress billowing and shiny. The presents would be in different shades of red and green, some with tacky Santa Clauses or snowmen on them with outstretched arms, others with the words “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” written on them. Wrapped with a ribbon or merely a stick-on ribbon to add flare to a once-one-dimensional design.

Christmas is a time of receiving, even more so than giving, when you’re a kid.

But, as time walks by, neither fast nor slow, neither keeping up with you nor waiting for you, just constantly moving as you perceive it for yourself, it shows you the presents, which were bountiful as a child, slowly diminish, get lesser and lesser, start to become smaller, passed instead as money in little red envelopes or skin-to-skin, or you get nothing at all. You start to need instead of want things, things which will suit your adaptation, your changes.

It’s when you’re older when you start giving rather than receiving, and you start to want things not just for yourself but for people outside of you. You volunteer, or you give food to those who need it, or you simply create little things for your friends. Don’t you think it’s beautiful that you are giving all that you’ve received? Those blessings as a child, in a way, is like giving it back to others, only in a different way.  What goes around must come back around. Isn’t that something?

Nowadays, all I want for Christmas is peace in the world. There’s not much I want more than this. The wars have to stop. Inner turmoils need to be talked about. The bombs have to stop falling. The rage has to be watered down like flowers. The guns have to stop shooting. The silence has to stop being so deafening. The children need to stop seeing death. The masks should be taken off. Siblings should not act as parents to their parentless younger siblings. The interchanged roles should not be this much. Blood should not be spilled. The plants need to grow again. Lives should not be easily taken away. And the world needs to stop feeling so much pain. All we do is touch the wounds even more, never giving,  never allowing it time to heal. In the world we live in, in a time of great advancement, all I see are savages who have returned to their basic instincts. We are so much better than what the general population has become. Hope. That’s the word everyone throws your way but don’t actually do. It may be so easy for me to say because I am not the one going through war. But I wish that the people experiencing wars, both outside of themselves and within themselves, never lose hope. That there is more to this high wall you’ve built around yourself. That there is more to this destroyed city brought down to the ground. Hope.

Merry Christmas to all individuals. No exclusions. The world has been too divided now, but with a single crack, maybe some light could still be shed upon what matters most.

Published by Alessandra Könst