merry christmas

It's 2.30am, Christmas. The familial chaos has died down, everyone is in bed. Except me. I'm feeling chilly, despite being fully dressed in navy blue fleece.

I'm finally doing the most frightening thing I've done in my life: I'm letting myself fall in love, for the second time.

The second time is the worst one, isn't it? I mean, the first time you're perfectly idealistic, you have all these plans, these....'standards' you want to meet. You're being pursued, lavished upon. Everything seems to come naturally, and it's like confectionery. And a few years later it's thrown away, or worse, it festers slowly.

The second time is worse. Because you know better. Or do you?