I’m spinning out of control.
December 2, 2003
I have emerged from the closet. I consider myself extremely lucky to have done so. While imprisoned in my cardboard container for the past eleven months, I practiced daily at enhancing my second sight. What I discovered horrified me. For many years previous to this, my fellow Christmas trees were dragged out behind the house and heaved over a compost pile to rot! I can still see their skeletons in my dreams, wasting away, screaming desperately for love. I am glad I did not end up like them.
Of course, Im made of plastic. Once the children reassembled me, all was well. I have been standing in the same spot since. Honestly, its not as bad as it sounds. The TV reflects nicely in one of the picture windows at night, so that I can watch whatever my family watches in mirror image. They may not have great taste in programs, and Ive seen the damn Harry Potter movies more times that I care too already, but its better than the last year Ive spent disassembled in a carton. I can even sneak a few moments every night to write in this journal.
So far, they have decorated me nicely if not completely. Im covered in this strange silvery substance called either tinsel or icicles, depending on whos doing the describing. There were none of these things last year. While I admit they are rather aesthetically pleasing, they also itch, and I long to be rid of them. Whenever I get the chance, I spin around slowly (thank god my base rotates) and rid myself of a few on the floor. And I try to attach some to the dog whenever he wanders by. The cat is more cautious, so I cant trick him into taking some away in his fur. The one time I tried, he attacked me and nearly broke one of my beloved glass ornaments. I will not be attempting it again.
Honestly, everyone pretty much ignores me now. Theyre in the Christmas spirit, but its still in its early stages. I can tell. They took the time to assemble me and decorate me, and they turn me on at night, but as of yet there is only a single present nestled under my branches. Its a pitiful little thing that came in the mail and looks like it was chewed on by hyenas. I know there are other presents in the house; my inner eye has been clouded by my emergence but my logic has not. I saw the son bring in stuffed animals, and no one buys bags of stuffed animals at Christmas just for the hell of it. Yes, theyre waiting for something. Until then, my life is slightly less interesting than it could be. Than it will be.
I have but one more thing to put down now. The creature that walks in the night is stirring, and I must go. It is horrible.
The dog has peed on me. I cant get the stench out. Why, why dont they notice? I NEED TO BE WASHED.
Thats enough ranting. I have to hide this back under my stand before they wake up.
