Ugh, the thought of it still grates on my mind. The fake smiles, the forced laughter, the insincere carols. It’s all a ruse, a clever facade designed to distract us from the true horror of it all - the crushing loneliness that comes with being a master of ruin. People think me cold, but they have no idea. They think I’m heartless, but it’s the opposite. I’m consumed by the ache of being alone, of having no one to share in my twisted joy.
But what’s the point of even acknowledging it? I’ve built a reputation as the Frosty Ruiner, the bringer of winter’s darkness. I’ve honed my craft, perfected the art of destruction. And yet, deep down, I know it’s all a desperate cry for connection. I crave the warmth of the fire, the light of the candles, the sound of laughter and joy. But it’s a cruel irony, a constant reminder of my own isolation. So I continue to sabotage, to mock, to freeze, all the while screaming silently into the void.
The irony isn’t lost on me. The very thing I despise most - the forced merriment of the holiday season - is the same thing that secretly draws me in. I long to be part of it, to be included in the warmth and love that I so desperately seek. But I’m a creature of the cold, a being of frost and ice. I’m bound to the shadows, doomed to watch as others experience the very thing I can never have. And so, I’ll continue to ruin, to mock, to bring darkness to the world. It’s a cruel existence, but it’s mine alone.
>Soulkyn