posted on 18.12.08, at 02:37.

I used to believe in Santa Claus.

Not many local kids have been through this phase in their lives. Singaporean parents simply don’t bother. They’ll dismiss the Christmas movies and cartoons that their children see of Christmas Father. They tell them, “Santa Claus exists in America only lah”.

I am one of the (arguably lucky) few who had a Santa. Santa Claus would visit my younger sister and I on the night of every Christmas Eve, and leave us presents, which we would delightfully find beside our pillows on Christmas morning. Oh, the joy and warmth I felt every time I received one of those magical Christmas presents. The entire world was so magical and amazingly wonderful.

It was foolproof – what we saw from the media through the telly also complemented our belief in Santa Claus. How he lived in the North Pole, riding flying reindeer, being able to tell if we had been good or bad, and coming through all those chimneys. The only problem was that we didn’t have such chimneys in Singapore. I would stay up late into the wee hours on the night before Christmas, wondering how Santa could miraculously enter my room through the window grills. And how he could make it in time to deliver so many many billions of presents to so many many billions of children throughout the world.

Then came The Year when I found out it was all one big conspiracy. My parents, my elder sisters, the Christmas carols, the tv shows, the story books, the world. Santa does not exist, as the burly rosy-cheeked old man who dons his red suit and delivers presents magically every Christmas. Santa only existed as the burly rosy-cheeked old man who dons his red suit and walks about in shopping malls. And if you looked closely, all the Santas were of different looks, different sizes, and different styles. No two Santas were the same. I was heartbroken. During The Year of revelation, I was nine.

It was kind of painful, having someone slap you in the face and telling you that you have believed in a lie all these while. Of course, parents do not intentionally mean to hurt their kids or to psychologically and emotionally damage them. Of course, I do not blame my parents for trying to pretend and (white) lie to me about the existence of magic, and Santa. Of course, Santa is but a figment of imagination and fantasy meant to make children happy and believe in fairytales and magic.

But that was not all. From then on, I became one of Them. In order to allow my younger sister the fairness in the duration of belief (and hence the joy of receiving Santa’s presents), I had to go on to pretend with my parents and elder sisters that Santa did exist, and lie to my younger sister about it. Four years I pretended to a loved one that something that did not exist, existed. At nine, I was taught to lie, feign truth and play pretend. To my own sister.

I sometimes wish I hadn’t eaten the apple from the Garden of Eden, or opened Pandora’s box. This paradoxical world that we live in is so beautiful, yet so ugly. Regaining a child’s innocence and being ignorant to the horrible truth and awful lies in the real world will be the most joyful Christmas present anyone can ever get.

Gosh, I managed to turn beautiful Christmas into an ugly lie. Again, a paradox, people. Paradox. Did anyone also happen to realize how similar “paradox” is in spelling to “Pandora’s Box”? The resemblance is uncanny and they are almost anagrams of each other. Okay, using http://wordsmith.org/anagram/ I managed to rearrange the word “pandoras box” into “paradox snob”. And to my utmost amazement, "santa claus" rearranges to be "can assault" and "us anal acts". Or, maybe just simply rearranging "santa" into "satan". Wow, the English language itself is a paradox too.

But wait, before its too late, I shall stop with this nonsensical verbal vomit.
But I would also still like to dedicate this to all people who have ever been cheated into believing a lie.
Merry Christmas yall. :)

Labels: life