There's lights strung up all over town. Walking down the street without being acknowledged with at least a friendly smile is almost impossible. For the first time since childhood, it feels like the smile I give in return is genuine. Christmas has been turned into a bastard child of greeting card mega-corporations and toy companies, and it shows whenever you turn on a television or enter a store, but...there's still something innocent about it. An element of untarnished goodwill still exists in some people around December 25th. Some die-hard pessimists and disenchanted nihilists deny it. They say good will doesn't exist anymore, that the only holiday cheer is manufactured in factories with dollar signs in their eyes. These people know that humanity has some element of itself left, and it scares them to think that their total lack of faith in us is not entirely justified. That would shatter their fragile excuse not to care. Every night they wrap themselves in a blanket of detachment from their species, hoping it will shield them from the hurt in their past.
Some people use their hate to keep surviving. Love will kill you every time.