It’s gone, again

I am listening to a Christmas mix while going back to Kolkata. This is me, refusing to let go of Christmas. What is Christmas? I don’t know. It’s a combination of things. It’s my mom, my dogs, my sister, It’s the cold, it’s the movies, it’s the lights, it’s the music, it’s the smiles. Aaaaaaand I’m crying again.

My pants barely fit. It’s hanging on the second button, which I like to call, the backup button, and when it breaks, it gonna be like the shutters of a dam opening during the monsoon baby.

Is it just me, or do people sitting behind you, whether it be a cinema or in the plane, always feel like they are practicing for a UFC fight? What’s with the punching?