Christmas isn't all about receiving or giving gifts. It doesn't need to spend money to buy new clothes. It's ok just to be at home. As long as you know the true meaning of it. Christmas is about Jesus. A child who was born in a manger. The one who sent by God to save us from our sins. He is the best gift ever. The most precious. Every Christmas try to think about Him. He is the highlight of our Christmas.
I sometimes flee to my cerebral and lock myself in like Cerebro, to escape the evils; devils manifested through the medium of people who would dare take the shape of amigos, how feeble. I minimized the beasts, except for my desert eagle; I almost blew my brain to pieces, to get some peace though. It turns out a harder feat than Jesus' feet on top of seas. Often what we need is too immaculate... to conceive. You perceive traditions of faulted knowledge from who deceives, now test the credibility of who creates what you believe. Learn about the authors of the books they're telling you to read and you can peep the reasons why I seldom see the truth in these. They robbed us of our history, then named us after who we served & cut our wrists when trying to reach for knowledge, now we grew some nerve. Ironically the pictures where the "****** be like" synonyms are similar to similes in rules they write on pyramids.
She has ink dripping from her lips. He blames that on the poetry she drinks after each and every kiss she gives to him on his cheeks and ribs. Sometimes in his mouth as she claims that it's her cathedral and the only place where she confesses all of her darkest sins. He sends kisses down her spine. As if it holds the knobs to the doors of her fragile broken soul. Hoping that each kiss will lead him in. This is the story of where their new life begins. There tangled in the sheets of his warm cozy bed. And that was the moment when they both paused and said the best is yet to come. And our young love will live on and on* ~