Thanksgiving.

A time for great misery in the forms of overbearing family members and too tight jeans. This along with Christmas is what all that training throughout the year is for. Year round I finely tune my faux smile so that its brilliance can deceive even the most veteran empaths in my family. 'Smile and think of blood' I say to myself. Smile, pretend to be 'happy', show affection and wit, be charming, clever and engaging. Constant reminders, because I need them. It only takes one slip for shit to hit the fan.

Most lies I can tolerate telling, my annoyed apathy almost fuels my desire to succeed in such lies. But the one thing I can't stand- is pretending to like children. It's so extremely important too, what an unlucky weakness for me to have. I can't stand sniveling, whining little brats- and I'm talking about the parents. Don't even get me started on their little inbred spawn. Humans seem to be so emotionally attached to their offspring. It's pivotal to act appropriately around them if you want to blend in.

I'll blather on later, for now I need all the rest I can get. The next 24 are going to be Tartarus.