Dear Santa,
It’s been a long-ass year. I hope you are well. I hope you, Mrs. Clause, the elves, and the reindeer are safe from the pandemic. Can the virus even reach the North Pole? It’ll be funny picturing you sneaking down chimneys in a mask. Which I guess you should do anyway since chimneys have a ton of dust and/or smoke. Then again, you are a magical entity. I just want you to be safe, Santa.
I stayed home for most of this year. My anxiety and depression have been terrible, especially after losing a few people I loved dearly. I also lost my job, and that decimated my mental health. I plunged headfirst into the loneliness. And I know millions of people are suffering as well. But you’ve probably seen countless pandemics by now, so I guess you know that we’ll be alright after it’s over.
I tried to be good this year. I wrote a lot. I shared naughty stories that I know people have gotten off to. But seeing as this is my Christmas list, I’ve got a few naughty things I want to request of you. There are no chimneys in my house, so as always, I’ll leave my window cracked open. This year, I want something very simple. I want to fuck harder than 2020 has fucked me.