I usually try to keep it to myself because it may be a little dark, but my favorite Christmas song is Fairytale of New York
Perhaps it’s the way the lighthearted melody contrasts with the heaviness of the lyrics. Or maybe the writer in me is embracing its brutal honesty and hidden truths. It might even be the Celticness of it all, I don’t know, but whatever it is, it has an impact on me every time I hear it.
It’s raw. As the Irish often are. It’s real. Emotionally based. And it’s deep.
There’s something to be said for someone who has the grit to celebrate an imperfect life, holidays that turn out less than wondrous and writes lines like; “I could’ve been someone.”…“Well, so could anyone.”
It’s alright to admit your life hasn’t been perfect. That you’re not perfect. I remember, in a writing class years ago, the instructor told me my main character was too perfect. No one wants that. Imperfection is what encourages strength and growth. It makes us legit. Interesting. Three dimensional. Tempting. Addictive.
We can all be someone. Just the same as anyone. But different. We all get that chance. We just have to take it. And use it well.
Keep living. Keep fighting. Keep dreaming.
And don’t let anyone take any of that from you.