Not a particularly original nor shocking statement. It's fashionable to hate the holidays. As much as I hate following fashion, in this particular area, I can't help myself.
Every year, the approach of Christmas makes me remember all the family and friends that I no longer have, and never will have again. Once you get to a certain age, especially when you are so much younger than most of your family, the way I am, Christmas becomes an increasingly empty table, until there is hardly anyone left. And rather than being thankful for the few who are left, I mourn for the ones that are gone. What can I say? I'm perverse that way.
Sure, lots of people in the world have it worse than I do. But, honestly, if feeling grateful for someone else's misfortune is the only way I can feel jolly this time of year, it's just not worth it.
It's not like the empty chairs miraculously fill up after Christmas, those people are gone for good. And for the rest of the year, that's no big deal. But somehow, the advent of Christmas makes it a big deal, and that's why I hate it.