The tree already won.

Christmas is in two days.

My entire family is asleep as I sit on the couch across from our tree.

It's a serious staring contest.

The tree is decorated the same as every other year.

The presents look the same. Pristine and joyful.

The warm lighting radiates off the bulbs, just as every year.

But there's a heavy pit in my stomach as I look at the tree.

I'm sixteen, between the ages of being an excited child and being excited for my own child.

The way I feel is indescribable.

In a way nostalgic and in a way sickening.

I'm excited for Christmas, of course, but in the depths of my stomach, there's an absence.

An absence of anticipation and pure child glee.

Maybe I'm feeling the complete opposite of nostalgic.

Maybe I'm thinking of the future and how I'm gonna look back at these moments and wish I appreciated them more.

Perhaps that's what I feel, forced appreciation and joy.

It's a staring contest, but I'm the ultimate loser.

Because every holiday season the tree feels the same, and this holiday season I feel detached and distant.