Il Cavaliere Inesistente

I used to have a love-hate relationship with festive seasons, more so when it comes to Christmas, and New Year too since it is celebrated only a few days after the former and both are closely associated. At 12 a.m. sharp I would compose my own text messages, hoping that recipients who consist of those that I care about the most would feel the sincerity, albeit in its electronic form. Yet lately I seem to have lost that enthusiasm, that fire which kindles my heart to share the spirit of whatever festivity, and I say so solemnly. I sometimes find myself lamenting the fact that what used to mean a lot to one would eventually lost its meaning somehow, though in some remote cases there are exceptions. Mostly what's left are broken memories, remnants of our former selves which we are unable to let go, and believe me they will forever be there, haunting us wherever we go. My mouth remains shut, though my eyes see, and it's excruciatingly difficult to play dumb; there will always be wo