Dear Santa: let me #livelaughlove


Autumn Kong

Dear Santa, 

I think this is the last year it’s socially acceptable for me to write to you, seeing as I’ll be a legal adult this time next year.  It’s been a long ride, a long, beautiful, grueling, wonderful, painful ride.  Life has thrown me around and chucked me under the bus, the most wild series of ups and downs I’ll ever know.  And while for most of my life I felt like a ragdoll being viciously thrashed around and flowing with the course of the river, recently I’ve found myself in control.  Well, the most control I’ve ever had in my life.  Instead of letting the currents take me wherever they lead, letting myself fade into the back of my own life, I’ve finally made myself a paddle.  I’m the center of my own story, for once.  But, Santa, despite the fact this is the most life I’ve ever lived, it still feels like life is living me.  Though I’m paddling where I want to go, doing what I want to do, taking routes I would have never taken—it feels like the stream is just passing me by.  Sometimes I feel stagnant among the flowing tides, I feel numb to my own hands moving the oars along.  Am I mentally ill?  I think it’s just senioritis; I hope it is, because that means this feeling will go away.  Santa, I wish for this to go away.  Disappear.  Vanish.  Cease to exist.  Just like how I feel sometimes, a ghost among my own vibrant life.  How am I the happiest I’ve ever been, yet also the most unfeeling.  Santa, at the very least could you tell me why I feel so empty during the most fulfilling period of my life?  I have all the ingredients to be the happiest I’ve ever been, and I am, yet I’m also not.  I’m just confused.  So please, Santa, I wish to be able to live the life I’ve always dreamt of—and to be able to feel like I’m living it. 

Yours perplexed, 

Autumn Kong