Where is The Santa

It is midnight. The city is still awake, New York does not follow the rules but I find it strictly disciplined. This new place has got a lot in common, it has got people, smiley, weird and few witches. Unlike London it is a bit quite at the mid-noon, it is winter.
Finally.
Inside the long jackets of souls, people here are kind and mature, they understand the value of a smile from a stranger, while they stuck, they help, few days in this city and a lot has been happened, happy memories what we say.
Winters and York has a beautiful mystery, I am waiting for some Smurf showers, the eve must begin in few hours but the city is still celebrating, there is lots of hope inside the heart, they believe Christmas brings joy, I believe so.
My brother is not home yet, he is working late, my best friend is awake talking to his drunk mind and I wonder what a breakup does to a guy, they are indeed sensitive. My Christmas tree is decorated, snowman-check, gifts-got, gifts-given, cookies-checked (half empty box, sorry Jesus, I cannot deliver the sense of cookie giving), waiting for?
I am waiting for a miracle, a falling star or some sort of jingle in the air. They say Santa comes, every year, I wrote him every year but this one. I have nothing to ask him for, I don’t wonder why.
It’s not that I am grown up, I don’t believe in him, or I am simply bored.
The last statement could be true.
Well, I did not gather bi-polar, I have been tested.
To all ways and in any ways, this city be beautiful even at the empty streets where someone is passionately kissing her and she is driving inside of him, the red lipstick are now tasted with glory of the eve, I could smell cake, metal music next door, few lights on, and never ending partying hearts.
I am not used to this schedule yet, I feel insomniac, I tried talking to my friends back in India, they are bringing me joy every moment, they made me strong in this weak moment and I appreciate it.
I am pretending to write, I am not actually writing, I am observing my hand’s type and my eyes still on the roads, there are various ways to come out of the loss of your life, I am following one of them, to observe and not to feel them anymore.
To all the consolations I have got in my loss and the strength my friends gave me during this period is beyond the affection, I wonder what made me get them. Each day is a new beginning I understand but sometimes there is something that drags us back, I want to be in memories now, I want to stay awakened and not to rest, but I do not want t to be restless, no matter how much I cry on this, my heart is still full, grief and anxiety but love stays to calm it.
Well, merry Christmas, I will sit here and wait for Santa to appear.

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