It is said that curiosity killed the cat… Well, I killed Santa with my curiosity.

I was 5 or 6 years old, a very curious child like all children, always questioning things and the reality of them. I caught on the way the world works very fast, so you could imagine that in my wonder and awe I knew something was wrong for a fat guy to go all around the world to give children presents. And for some reason my younger brother followed me, in this childhood destroying path, well of course he had little to no idea what I was searching for.

But often I consider myself a bit of an asshole for doing this, purposely trying to screw up or find unhappiness in my life. By doing all sorts of odd stuff, like just annoying people with seemingly stupid questions, but when you stay and think about them, you have no real answer to them. Or I do anything else but what people advise me to. But the second part it's mainly due to the fact that I disagree with their point that was made or arguments that were brought for that supposed action. Which makes people mad, but if people bring me great arguments, then I am willing to participate as long as it is in my, let's call it, code.

So yeah, eventually I started at 5 years old searching for hidden presents, of course, my parents hid them very well, so after I checked everything, I gave up that Christmas. A year later with the help of my brother we found "Santa" and at least for me that's when I killed him, for my brother, well maybe a year later. So basically my Christmas was from then on: "Here you go, merry Christmas." Even though they thought that I didn't know about "Santa". I just killed the biggest joy of the Christmas as a child, besides getting paid for singing like a little horrible shit, caroling and having money for sweets. I had ruined presents and the only time I felt appreciated and some happiness when it came to family.

Curiosity can help you grow up, but in my case it just killed Santa and the magical part of Christmas.

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