Just a myth.

‎'Maybe that whole love thing is just a grown-up version of Santa Claus; just a myth we've been fed since childhood. So, we keep buying magazines, joining clubs, and doing therapy and watching movies with hit pop songs played over love montages all in a pathetic attempt to explain why our love Santa keeps getting caught in the chimney', Kate in Kate and Leopold.






When I was 7 or maybe 8, on Christmas eve I had heard someone's breath near my side-table. I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep, my ears sharp as ever. That moment, the 7 year old in me believed in Santa with all my heart.
The next morning I woke up and found no gift, just my Dad's old boots. Turns out my Dad had come back late from work.

That was the last time I ever thought of Santa. I have occasionally got a Christmas gift wrapped inside a red sock, as and when my parents felt like it, but after that day, to me Santa did not exist; I knew for sure, Santa was a myth.





I'm 18 now, a little older maybe, and ocassionally I do feel loved.
But just as I found old boots instead of a gift that I was expecting, I have never found the gift.
Just old boots.
And each time I told myself, maybe next Christmas would bring better gifts.
But everytime, I found nothing.

Just like the day I stopped believing in Santa, today I stopped believing in love.

I'm 18 years old and to me love is just an old boot you find on a lovely winter morning; just when you think you found Santa.