MistakesUnder MistakesUnder The Mistletoe
OurSincere
This issue was the first issue that me and safrina talked about when we had the idea of Sincerity. I remember like it was yesterday, I was sitting on the floor of our summer house, texting her about our magazine, which was called serendipity, Secrets and sincerity. we were so excited for the winter issue, and making it was so fun and stressful, and we are aware that it is releasing after the holildays, but we put a lot of effort into it as a team, and we hope you enjoy reading it, as much as we did making it! -
--Saodat: Editor in chief
MissLittle MissLittle TIP TOE
by ira sharma
“What happens beneath the mistletoe, stays beneath the mistletoe.”
The mistletoe had been hung too low, as if it had tired of waiting for meaning above the doorway and decided to descend on its own. It hovered in the air, posing a question no one wanted to answer. Pale berries catching the low winter light. No one noticed it at first. Not in a house filled with clinking cups, with laughter that arrived with the scent of warm cocoa mugs and smores.
They stood on opposite sides of the room, both pretending the distance was intentional.
December had always been unkind that way; gentle in appearance, ruthless in execution. It dressed everything in absolute stillness and begged for softness. Every year, it returned as a reminder of the end, only for it to call people to come together to rejoice.
They had made their mistakes quietly. That was the tragedy of it. No slammed doors, no raised voices to justify the ending. Just small missteps; words swallowed instead of spoken, apologies rehearsed and then abandoned, love assumed to be selfsustaining, like fire that didn’t need tending. They had mistaken endurance for effort, familiarity for safety.
Under the mistletoe, someone laughed too loudly. Someone else brushed past with a plate of food gone cold. The night moved forward, indifferent.
MissLittle MissLittle TIP TOE
When they finally stood beneath it together, it wasn’t deliberate. It was gravity. A narrowing of space. The room seemed to hush, as though even the walls remembered what had once lived between them. Tradition hovered overhead, patient and cruel. They did not kiss. Instead, they smiled... the poised kind, the ones built from politeness and regret. The kind that acknowledges love the way one might acknowledge a scar: proof of healing, proof of harm. In that moment, everything unspoken pressed between them; every almost, every too late, every “I meant to.” It was strange, how love could feel most alive in the moment it was least possible.
The mistletoe bore witness, green and unjudging. It had seen worse. It had seen better.
It knew that some mistakes weren’t accidents, only evidence of being human. That some hearts break not from cruelty but from neglect gentle enough to go unnoticed until the silence grows teeth. When the heart gnaws away at remnants built of flakes. Too unsteady, that they dissolve. When they tip-toed away, the room resumed its noise. The night continued its rituals. Outside, the cold held the world in its steady grip, preserving what could not be saved. Later, long after the lights dimmed and the house exhaled into sleep, the mistletoe would still hang there... Waiting for another story, another pair of hands that might choose differently. But for now, it kept their secret. A love not ruined by malice but by hesitation. A mistake made softly. A memory left for winter to wither away.
BlueM BlueM
I’m an unhappy child, You come in with a smile That's too wide.
Hair fuzzier than the snow, with A blush borrowed from the sky.
Now,
You're friends are my friends & You're frenemies are my enemies.
The winter bugs crawl on my skin, We count the stars on the Christmas tree, Unboxing happiness & a bright summer. You'll never know that, I got through each winter because of you.
Making
And breaking the winter tunes.
Waking
And celebrating the last summer of our lives. Yellow-I, Yellow-You Yellow-sun, It's the last summer of our lives,
You're my best friend but Then you died…
You took my memories & turned them black. My childhood fades to stick, As I lick a lollipop that's infested with flies.
Memories Memories sharma
You're a nobody but Then you died…. You're my best friend but Then you changed…
I choked on the sappy snow, Life came a full circle but It's all warped!
You're my Christmas corruption muse, A new day blooms, Where all my memories are blue.
Since you're dead & gone, Dead & gone, All my memories make me Look schizophrenic, But I'm just gonna mourn My sugar crash, Because,
You're my Christmas corruption muse, A new day blooms, Where all my memories are blue.
LonelyChristmasEve LonelyChristmasEve
By Stephanie gunnz
LONELY CHRISTMAS EVE
By Stephanie Gunnz
My old black car is ready to go Red coat and smell of mistletoe
Darling its Christmas so don’t be stressed
Your angel’s gonna save you from loneliness
Laurel Canyon and big lonely mansion
Where is your good reputation?
You told me everything what you want you’ll achieve
But now you are alone on Christmas Eve
Lonely Christmas Eve
Lonely, lonely Christmas Eve
Colourful bulbs And neon lights
We are walking down the Hollywood boulevard
Give me your presents with pretty Christmas cards
Put Christmas vinyl on Dance with me before I’m gone
We can dance under the mistletoe
GratefulFor GratefulFor by Alisha Nasim
A Crimson scarf wrapped around, Cheeks tinted pink, lips brushed burgundy. Hands shiver inside handmade gloves, The sheer cold chiming in the chest.
So, let’s go inside- into a place we call home;
Warm hallways, bright corridors, Dazzling lights and sparkling decorations, Cookies and milk set out for the guest, Gifts and love spreading throughout.
The house echoing with laughter and warmth,
The very things some are so deprived of.
Oh, to be so grateful for a place to call home,
To return tired and be hugged along.
What ' HsColdWon't urtYou What'sColdWon't HurtYou
You were
Looking to the sky for a Christmas miracle I knew what’s going to happen
Cause I do believe In Christmas miracles I’ve seen them happening back in 2019 And I believed I’ll witness more Then he thought I must have been an angel
But I am not
Cause sometimes I get sad and I feel desperate too
And sometimes I think How the hell did I get there?
There is snow everywhere
But then I look at our Christmas tree It’s so simple but heart-warming
And it reminds me of traditional villages
Such a sight for my vintage images
Then I call your name
And it reminds me of home I was slowly losing
I think of my country
Times when people had nothing and nothing to do
Nothing but happiness And I have nothing
But you Me, lover of beaches
Lover of summer and palm trees I sometimes wonder What the hell am I doing there? But you can learn how to love cold things
If you sense beauty with your eyes and your eyes and heart only
Because all beaches are same beautiful And the pain will be taken away with the tide What’s cold won’t hurt you if you ’ re fire inside
EchoesofAn OldChristmas EchoesofAn OldChristmas by
evelyn
y that the freezing season n ribbons from my hands. ame and went in whispers. with the smell of spirit. ell known, yet so distant now. e whispered mornings, wn the staircase half-awake, every twinkling light ung there just for me. ce of time moved like snowfall.
n the air without an ounce of fear. ade the wonder fade to so small, n experience it once more. eemingly slightly dimmer year by year,
twice as tall with uncertainty, where the magic used to stand. hold the past forevermore, preserving the delicate innocence from slipping by, like a snow globe in my warm hands, i would shake it gently, watch it shimmer, and step inside its calm.
but memory melts too easily now, and christmas lights don’t glow the same. yet still, i don’t admit, i search for pieces of the child i once became.
APeppermint’ s Lament APeppermint’s Lament
By kresstina jade
The aftertaste of the expired candy cane Lingers in my mouth,
Like the scorch marks from when I burned Myself as we baked those holiday cookies
One white Christmas ago. Sitting on the stairs under the mistletoe, alone
At some mediocre college party, With a cranberry-red plastic cup in my hand, Holding cheap eggnog that tastes even worse Than the expired peppermint.
This shall be a blue, blue Christmas for me. For my lips only know the flavour of this years-old candy cane,
Instead of your cherry lip gloss. My hand only holds the prospect of more almost-rancid eggnog, When our fingers should be intertwined.
Why can’t you be spend
I still wonder why you lef With the chilling blaze of heartb
Enough to survive the snow, but lifetime.
O, where in this blizzard are you on this lonely Christmas Eve?
IntoSaod IntoSaod
Happy, happy holidays to everyone reading, the holi spirit, it’s honestly worrying. I don’t think I’ve worn socks this December, it’s gotten that bad. The holidays lethal amounts of butter and cinnamon, but no one Damn. Much.
It’s been snowing a whole lot recently, which I’m very so magical and wonderful, I’ve been going for a lot and the gorgeous scenery. I think I can confidently the best holidays, and you get time off school.
I’ve been pondering on what I want to do for this iss then it hit me: I can write about whatever the hell I w write about, when this is MY section and MY idea problems with this near-perfect holiday, everyone fee much as possible, when in reality, it’s just about enjo writing about how I want to write about whateve surrounding Christmas. Cool.
I’m not gonna harp on about the social pressure of Ch but I AM going to harp on about Stranger Things sea the same, and it never will be ever again. I am so pum
But anyway, that’s what I think today. See you next ti
d’sMind dat’sMind
day season is upon us! I am so full of the Christmas anything other than my plaid pajamas and fuzzy are a wonderful excuse to sleep in, wear red and eat cares, cause it’s cold and snowing, and I LOVE it. So.
y happy about, and snow just makes everything feel of walks outside to appreciate the beauty of nature say that winter is my favorite season, since you get
sue, specifically what I want to write about here, and want! I shouldn’t have to wrack my brain for a topic to and is about ME. I think that’s one of the biggest els so much pressure to do something big, or do as oying yourself in any way you see fit.I So, I guess I’m er I want while also criticizing the social pressure
hristmas, you can read that in Sincerity with Sincerity, son 5, which was absolutely incredible. My life is not mped for the finale, it’s consuming me at this point.
me.
By Amelia B
I Remember I Remember
I remember every night, Every hug and your every line I will never be able to forget the days when I truly felt alive Every moment still lingers in my spirit, I feel as if I am followed by shadows from behind e to go to when I feel scared by who was lost in a fare ever I close my eyes, ee myself with you crawling down my cheeks presence within my head baby the pleasure of being held
TheChristmas We Almost Had by vivianNe
The snow is falling this Christmas Eve, just as it did two years ago, when I made the mistake that would define everything that came after.
We were in the library, empty for the holidays, just the two of us among shelves with frost-covered windows. He had brought hot tea in a thermos, a gesture so characteristic of him, always practical, even in his tenderness, and I was wearing wool gloves that my grandmother had knitted. I remember thinking that this was the moment. Christmas, with all its promise of renewal and magic, seemed designed for brave confessions.
“I have something to tell you, ” I began. And I saw his whole body tense up, his dark eyes filling with something that might have been hope or might have been panic. He waited. I waited. The silence stretched between us like a violin string about to snap. And then I did the unforgivable: cowardice disguised as consideration.
"I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas," I said. And thank you for these past few months of conversations.
I saw something die in his eyes. How hope, for that’s what it was, I know now, flickered and died like a candle in the wind. He smiled politely, said “likewise,” and drank his tea. And that was the exact moment we lost each other, although we would continue seeing each other for months, pretending we hadn’t let something irreplaceable slip away.
Now it’s another Christmas Eve, and the snow falls just the same, but everything is different. He’s engaged to her, the carefree blonde, the one who isn’t afraid of fireworks or feelings, and I’m here alone, holding a cup of tea that’s growing cold in my hands, thinking about all the Decembers we could have had.
I wonder if he remembers that Christmas in the library. If he ever wondered what I was really going to say to him. If she knew, on some deep level, that this was our moment and that I rejected it out of fear.
Regret tastes like cold tea and has the texture of snow melting in the palm. It’s knowing exactly when you made the mistake that would change everything, and not being able to go back, not being able to undo it, only being able to live with the weight of what could have been.
But there’s a strange freedom in regret once you fully accept it. I no longer have to wonder “what if...?” Now I know. Now I live in it after having chosen cowardice over courage. And although it hurts, God, how it hurts, there’s clarity in it.
The happiness we could have had now lives only in my imagination: Christmases together, shared snow, hot tea sipped from the same cup. They wake up from winter, embraced under blankets that smell of us. Years of Tuesdays and Thursdays that would have turned into every day.
Instead, I have this: memories of a love that never came to be. The memory of her hopeful eyes in that snow-covered library. The ghost of the words I didn’t say: "I love you." I’ve been
in love with you since the first Tuesday. And I’m so afraid of this that I’d rather keep it to myself than risk everything.
He’s happy now, I think. Or at least happier than he would have been with me, with all my intensity and inner storms. She gives him what I couldn’t: lightness. The freedom to love without feeling like you ’ re drowning in the depths.
And I, too, have found a form of freedom. The freedom of knowing that I loved, even if I did it wrong. What I felt, even if it was too much. That I had my moment to be brave and chose silence, and that choice has defined me, but it hasn’t destroyed me.
This Christmas Eve, I raise my cup of cold tea toward the window where the snow falls and falls. A toast to the mistakes that teach us who we are. For the regrets we carry like scars that no one else can see. For the Christmas we almost were and will never be.
And for the possibility; small, fragile, yet real, that one day, in another snow-covered library, I’ll have the courage not to stay silent when the time comes to speak.
WinterSpirit
by Angela Patera
Wandering in the woods aimlessly
On a cold, oh so cold day. Snow and frost have transformed The landscape into an enchanting scenery. It is midwinter, Soon the Wild Hunt will take place, This haunting spectacle of primordial forces.
Snow-covered woodland as far as the eye can see, Until a horned figure appears from behind a tree.
Startled, I flinch
A scream rises and dies in my throat, For before me stands a Percht, a real Percht. A Winter Spirit of the Alps, Who mean no harm to any living soul. The Percht approaches me, I allow him to close the distance between us. Each step accompanied by the sound of the bells Which dangle from his pants and pointed boots. We hold each other’s gaze, both utterly transfixed, Glowing yellow eyes staring into blue-gray eyes. At last he smiled a smile full of sharp teeth, Cupped my cheeks with his clawed hands, And said:
“Perchten and humans are more alike than you might think, We too cannot escape the clutches of love on first sight.” “That is true,” I replied, “for it just claimed me as a victim as well.”
Hand in hand we walk deeper into the woods, Leaving footprints in the snow, Until the whirling snowflakes cover them, Make them disappear, Similarly to how I disappeared from the human world for true love.
Birds Birds
by Bella Melardi
Those floral pants sit in my closet. Untouched by my thighs, but only ever grazed by my eyes. Every few weeks I take them out and try to pull them over my hips, they reach my waist but my stomach spills out.
A rose-budded skyline blooming past the earth-like denim beneath.
Vastness is natural. Yet in a world that calls itself natural. My size is treated as something else. It places me in an in-between: too big to be a woman, too fragile to be a man.
I think there’s beauty and what can’t be contained. Yesterday I saw a robin in my backyard. It took flight jumping from a tree branch. Scarlet wings scraping the blue sky. Flaming feathers, cutting open the blue air, like it was nothing.
A bright bird in a cage is decoration. But in the wild, it’s a shock a hit to the chest, electric, almost violent in its beauty. You feel lucky to spot it. Enamoured by its way of being.
But I’m not a bird. I’m made to be controlled. I hate it. I don’t want to have to contract. To shrink myself down. Just to earn someone's gaze. I promise to treat myself better even if it hurts. I promise.
Repairman Repairman
Michael DeLaPlante
I knew it was a mistake but then I saw his eyes: innocently dazzling in the moonlight and I thought I could fix him. I wished that he wasn’t who he was hoped that he would be different dreamed that he could change and even now I still wish that could be.
I was nothing more than an experiment his lab rat that he kissed a few times screwed a few more behind his poor girl’s back just to try it out for the weekend double and triple check his “straightness” and proudly gloat about it to his friends living out his non-mutually non-monogamous dreams.
really I knew it all along but three girlfriends later and he still lives rent-free in my dreams while I know he hasn’t given me a second thought. but even still, his blue eyes pierce through my mind every day and make me live like an overworked repairman just trying to fix things but only tears himself down. 25
RoughTerrain RoughTerrain
- Friendship Breakups
By Safrina Haniff
Friendships shape you as a person; they even shape your romantic relationships later in life. Your girlfriends are the ones to pick you back up after a tough breakup, and they’re the ones to defend your name in fights; they are your moral support and stability in life. When times are hard, you often turn to your friends for comfort. That’s why losing a friend impacts you on a deep level, altering your ideas of relationships at times.
Your best friends are the people you first tell your good news to, the first ones to know about an achievement of yours; they’re the ones to cheer for you even if you lost. Furthermore, they’re the ones you vent to, the ones you unleash all your unsaid fury on, and the ones to lend you a shoulder to cry on. They’re like a personal diary, your own fanbase to share your daily rants with. Too many times to count, they're the ones to listen to you, whether it’s tiny details about your day or about the guy that ghosted you after your date; they’ll be there for you. And you’ll reciprocate your love in the same ways.
Sometimes friendship breakups are slow and painful, yet end on a positive note, while some can end in the blink of an eye but on a negative note. On the other end, they could be far more complex and intricate to decipher in detail. Regardless, they hurt in their own way, maybe one more than the other. It could even impact you in more ways than a romantic relationship, but it’s never talked about, or at least not often.26
Friendship breakups are weird because you go from talking every day to suddenly going AWOL; you go from having them pinned in your messages, from talking to them being the literal best part of your day, to suddenly never even uttering a single word to them again. The girl where you unfurl all your secrets, the girl that you would donate a lung to in a heartbeat but choose to argue over sharing fries, and the girl you loved more than yourself now simply don’t exist in your inner circle. It'll feel as if you lost a part of yourself, your other half, and perhaps you have.
In some cases, you might start to spiral after the friendship breakup. Your perception and discernment of life could be wrecked in an instant. It makes sense; the people you trusted most, the ones you would entrust your actual lives to, left your life, of course things start to seem blurry. The person that you believed was good, the person you believed was morally right and probably shared similar views on life as you suddenly thought they didn't need you or didn't want you. You'll maybe even start to think that you're a bad person, that you are somehow in the wrong for whatever happened; you'll no longer know yourself. Your worldly views and overall comprehension of yourself will start to twist into irregular shapes, no longer the linear line you saw for yourself.
It's understandable that you feel that way. And you should ruminate deeply upon the relationship and the faults and issues you possess and self-reflect. Endings are always meant to be sad, but you can’t wallow in your sadness forever; you have to move on and get better. Losing someone in any way leaves imprints on you, whether small or big.
Still, you should understand that sometimes the friendship breakup is needed. Nevertheless, they are sad in most circumstances; they change you as a person. At times, the change is slight, and at times, they’re a complete transformation – they might be good changes or harmful changes; either way, it’s change.
Besides, you can always come back. Everyone always thinks that once a relationship is over, it should not be revived or that it’s pathetic to try again. It’s not. Yes, if you guys are horrid for each other and only cause inevitable destruction upon one another, then obviously leave that relationship in the past; let it be a memory to reflect on and nothing more. However, if you guys changed and improved for the better and merely miss what was once a great friendship, then by all means go back.
Whether it’s three months or ten years, you can always rekindle your lost relationships; this doesn't only apply to platonic friendships.
I had a friend that was considered my absolute ride or die, my future bridesmaid, and the aunty to our kids; I’m talking she saw me grow up, we planned our futures together, she was there through ups and downs, and she probably knew me better than I knew myself at the time. Though I realised that was the issue, I was too attached to her. Our parting brought my attachment issues to light. I shouldn't be so attached to a person that it alters my brain chemistry simply because that person is no longer in my life.
In spite of that, our friendship ended after around three years. Yes, it was sad, but we both evolved as people after our separation, and we both felt that the friendship breakup was needed. Besides, we remained in some sort of contact but kept our friendship at arm's length. Albeit, after some time, a year to be exact – I'm not kidding; it was near the exact date of our severance – we reconnected. Our friendship isn’t what it used to be, but maybe it didn’t need to be.
I learnt that I didn’t need her as my best friend, at least not anymore; we could in theory go back to how it was, but it doesn’t have to be that way. I can love and cherish her as a friend without making her my right-hand woman.
--- Friendships aren’t a linear line; they aren’t meant to be in a routine, structured timeline or form. They aren’t permanent either; you can choose to leave or come back at any given time. Except, this does vary for different friendships, people, and how they ended.
At the end of the day, relationships are meant to be complex, and that comes with rough terrain.
IWantSomeone IWantSomeone To Let Go Into
by Craig Lowe
I want someone to let to go into. A friend, a partner, someone to take the weight away from that seven-day-a-week noise. I had a free day today. I went to town, bought a game, some sweets, even got some paint for a project.
Yet every step of the way my mind is raging. Old thoughts. I've tried to work them through...they haven't gotten better.
I'm used to it now. Madness with a name tag. A vertigo In every position. But I can't hold all this weight all the time. I try to let it go, but even when I'm doing the least, my mind bothers me like a toddler. Incessant.
Poking. Sharp cuts.
A good day is usually just a bunch of letters. I need a person to hang out with, someone who can distract me in the right way. Shut the valve off.
I need their smile, their energy. I need someone who doesn't love me to hold my face and help me melt a bit.
I want someone to be there and stay there. I don't know if I want love - tried that and I'm trying to recover. But I want another. I want to enjoy again.
I want to know that even when it goes wrong, I'm not the only one facing it.
I don't want a therapist partner mix. I don't expect that. I just need to know that it won't always be me and my shadow and my four walls. 30
The The
Ultimate Sign
by Bhavika Gulati
To be loved is to be truly known, To have someone you can call your own.
Love is in the way their voice softens for you,
In the way they care, proving their love is true.
Love is in the way their eyes look at you, In the secret kisses while you ’ re asleep; you never had a clue.
Love feels like a dream, serene and surreal, Something impossible to conceal. It feels like running through a field of dandelions, Or finding them the perfect alliance.
Love is when the world fades to gray, Yet they remain as your light, your only way. They always shine.
Love is when you start believing everything is a sign.
Perfectionism—
A Double-Edge Sword
Written by Safrina Haniff
to climb, another award achieve – there’s always , so you keep chasing more stairs in hopes of more validation – but it’ll ill never be satisfied; you er when this loop will stop, self peace. Perhaps when succeeded, you'll be at u retire, it'll all be a slow, that's not the case; you'll il you find a new source of ou might even reach the will find some sort of critic re to reach; your greed day you are expected to get g something productive and when you aren’t that sure of media is filled with routines, gs – It’s either that or the
The moment you take a breath, some time to decompress and finally be in a state of relaxation, you are hit with this sense of guilt – as if you aren’t supposed to rest. An incessant cycle that makes you feel as if you’re behi because somehow everyone is alw you. After all, that’s what they wan people would share their actual lives. the mental breakdowns they had or rejected at yet another job. Why would misery and misfortune within their only see the lavish parties and vaca rent or budget planning for the month Ostensibly, you will always feel not Conceivably, it’s because you never rece parents or perhaps because you receiv whatever it is, it’s pulling you down; it’s your mind. Overachieving is great in most circum yourself might actually push you, but th strain on yourself. In time, you will burn will you truly be not enough.
Perfectionism is the
make-it-or-break-it though it tends to break more than actua Greats like Prince and Beyoncé, or even St by being a perfectionist. They have mindset, so engrossed in their art and p every nook and cranny, entranced by the absorb themselves and base their entirety o craft. To continue, they prioritise success o they make sure they achieve every goal of were to mean sacrificing certain aspects o great sacrifice comes great reward.
Whilst some are heavy critics of this way of life. Those like Oprah, Pablo Picasso and Ariana Grande strongly believe in giving grace to oneself and being enough and whole as you are. They believe that the idea of perfectionism causes more harm than actual goodness. Additionally, they share great confidence in balance and serenity in one's life; working isn't a main priority. Much like others, they are dedicated to their art; however, in a way that doesn't strain their capabilities and overbear their load. Focusing on multiple different drafts, grasping the fact that their first few attempts have no requirement to be perfect in any way, shape or form, and preferring actual progress and work being made rather than unblemished works with no faults detected whatsoever.
Perfectionism is a double-edged sword; only you get to decide whether to wield it or not.
Nonetheless, no one is saying that you should do a whole 360 makeover. Don’t change your way of thought; don’t start doing less; simply modify your life. Give yourself the benevolence that you deserve. You don’t need to be a machine; you don’t need to overwork yourself to accomplish your goals.
Some people believe that obsession beats talent, and in some situations they’re right. As mentioned, that mentality and way of thinking works for some people; clearly hyperfixating on your art is a method for some. In spite of that, having this live, breathe, eat mindset will only set you back and will only cause burnout. Sure, it’ll work for a minute or two, you’ll start seeing results, and people will praise your hard work, but how will you sustain this work ethic? How will you continuously work your butt off until the end of time? No breaks, no rests. Even if you were to be in a perpetual state of work, are you truly happy living the rest of your lifetime in this state? -
By giving yourself the grace you deserve and the kindness and patience you need, you'll start to understand that there's more to life than your art. Your art isn't you; don't confuse it. Sure, being hard-working might be an attribute of yours, but being hard-working isn't you. Your talents, your intelligence, your hard work – all of that isn't you. You are a human, a soul within a body.
–By SafrinaHaniff –By SafrinaHaniff
SincerityWithSincerity SincerityWithSincerity
"How can I keep myself positive during the holiday season?”
The holidays are a time of joy, and happiness, they’re the best, right? Not always. The dread of family dinners and buying gifts and constantly feeling like you need to be enjoying the season, but not being able to is absolutely exhausting. So, how can you stop this constant, perpetual stress and negativity? I’ve gathered up a couple ways that work for me.
There’s a constant stress that always surrounds winter for me, the constant pressure of enjoying the holidays and only being able toenjoy them by doing elaborate things that take time and cause more worries than relaxation, and that, I believe, is absolutely stupid. Okay, that isn’t fair to say, but according to every single hallmark movie, there’s gotta be a table full of food, a house decorated more than Santa’s workshop, and you have to remain happy while doing that because “it’s the fun of the holidays!” Okay, absolute bull. It isn’t enjoyable or calming in any way, shape or form, and you absolutely do not need to do that to have fun during the holidays.
I’ll obviously have to talk about my experience, because I can’t go too long without talking about myself. This year, I was bending over backwards to enjoy my holidays, by doing everything I could to not “waste them,” like forcing myself to go out with different people, constantly trying to put myself into the “Christmas mood” and getting upset when it wasn’t working. Then, one night, I just gave up on trying to force myself to enjoy the holidays, and do what I actually wanted to do, and it all clicked.
And do you know what I did?
Nothing.
I was so drained from doing so much, that I actually forgot to relax. And what I did was revolutionary. I sat on my couch and binge watched the Hunger Games movies, and ate cinnamon buns. And I think I was the happiest person in the whole world at that moment, because I prioritized myself, and my feelings, rather than the idea of enjoying myself, you know? And I think that was what led me to have the best holidays of my life, because I did what I felt like doing, without having a strict schedule for enjoyment. It may sound really cliche, but I felt the Christmas Spirit, truly.
This season is all about happiness and festivity, but that looks different for everyone. For me, it’s staying home with my family watching a movie or reading a book by the fireplace (or listening to Lady Gaga), and for you it could be going out with friends, or cliff jumping, or swimming, the point is, it doesn’t matter how you enjoy yourself, the only thing that matters is that you DO enjoy yourself. You don’t need to conform to unrealistic standards, you just need to know what makes you happy, and it could be either the most complex, intricate or the simplest activities. I’m not saying you shouldn’t spend your holidays doing nothing, but that you should spend them doing things you enjoy, rather than forcing yourself to do things you don’t really want to.
And always remember, you are enough, whatever you do
Cooking WithSincer WithSincer
Spice oat milk chai
Ingredients
For 1 large mug (about 350 ml):
200 ml water
1 black tea bag (or 1 tsp loose black tea)
150–180 ml oat milk (barista style is nicest 1–2 tbsp maple syrup, honey, or sugar, to t Spices (adjust to your taste):
1 small cinnamon stick or 1/3 tsp ground ci
3–4 green cardamom pods, lightly cru h ground cardamom
2–3 whole cloves or a pinch of ground
2–3 black peppercorns or a pinch o pepper (for a gentle kick)
Small slice of fresh ginger or 1/4 tsp gr
Optional: tiny pinch of nutmeg or all warmth
tep method the spices cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, pepper, to a small saucepan. a gentle boil, then simmer 5–10 minutes fragrant. tea he heat, add the black tea, and steep 3–5 depending on how strong you like it. to your mug to remove the tea and whole
d froth the oat milk same (rinsed) pan, gently heat the oat milk ur sweetener and a pinch of cinnamon until ng but not boiling. with a whisk, milk frother, or by shaking in a sealed jar.
3 Dust with a little extra cinnamon or cardamom
mble the latte e mug about half to two-thirds full with the d tea. with the hot, frothy oat milk, holding back th m with a spoon, then spoon the foam on top.
Harry Potter
overall. Any movie from the Harry Potter series is suitable for the winter; it is a very binge-worthy movie franchise that also brings nostalgia.
The holiday
It is a popular romantic comedy about two heartbroken women, Amanda and Iris, who swap homes for Christmas to escape their failed relationships and find love unexpectedly with local men.
Buddy is raised as an elf at the North Pole who travels to New York City to find his biological father, a cynical book publisher who never knew he existed, bringing chaotic joy and Christmas spirit to the cynical city and his estranged family.
Honourable mentio hallmark m Recomme Recomme
Movie Movie
on: any christmas movie made endations
The Grinch
Grinch lives on Mount Crumpit overlooking the cheerful Whos of Whoville; he despises Christmas and wants to ruin the holiday by stealing all their presents and decorations, only to discover the true meaning of Christmas.
Home Alone
Klaus
It is a classic Christmas comedy about an 8-year-old Kevin McCallister, accidentally left behind by his large family for a Christmas trip to Paris; he initially relishes his freedom but must then defend his home from two bumbling burglars.
Klaus is a Netflix animated film, following selfish postman Jesper sent to the miserable, feuding town of Smeerensburg, where his unlikely friendship with reclusive toymaker Klaus sparks a wave of kindness, transforming the town and establishing holiday traditions like giftgiving.
The Holdovers
In 1970, a curmudgeonly history teacher at a New England boarding school remains on campus during Christmas break to supervise held-over students, and ends up forming an unlikely bond with a brainy but damaged troublemaker.
Lovely War
is a WWI historical romance where Greek gods narrate the intertwined love stories of four mortals, exploring themes of love, prejudice, and resilience amidst war, with Aphrodite telling the tale to escape divine judgment during WWII.
the pearl
a classic novella about poor pearl diver in Mexico whose life is upended after he discovers a massive, valuable pearl, bringing dreams of a better future but also unleashing greed, jealousy, and violence, exposing the corrupting nature of wealth.
Honourable mentio hallmark m Recomme Recomme
Other Other
any christmas
made
Dreams
Dreams is a song by Fleetwood Mac written by Stevie Nicks, is a hauntingly beautiful soft rock song about love, heartbreak, and acceptance.
Bridgerton
Based on the book series of the same name by Julia Quinn, It follows the closeknit siblings of the noble and influential Bridgerton family as they navigate the highly competitive social season, where young marriageable nobility and gentry are introduced into society.
I who have never known men
Thirty-nine women and a girl are being held prisoner in a cage underground. The guards are all male, and never speak to them. The girl is the only one of the prisoners who has no memory of the outside world; none of them know why they are being held prisoner,
OurSincereF OurSincereF
Thank you so much for taking the time out of yo issue has been delayed far too many times t Sincerity literary magazine will never release w that the work must be perfect, it simply means could possibly be. We don’t want to bring injus their works with us; they deserve to see their w rush this issue, instead spending a hefty lot of ti
--Safrina, Editor in Chief
With the rush of life itself, we wanted to take in to savor these moments. Just half a year ago w have published 3 issues (including this one), h bonds between the literary community, and fou still working tirelessly to establish ourselves as a we have come.
The next section gives recognition to our amazin the work they put in. This section lists a few w photos of these people, we choose to put in our instead celebrities with similar personalities as u
FinalRemarks FinalRemarks
our day to read this wonderful issue of ours; this to count, but here we are it’s finally released. work that we aren’t proud of; this doesn’t mean s that we must make it the best quality that it stice to the talented artists who have published works displayed beautifully. That’s why we didn’t me to curate our third issue.
the experience of making this issue; we wanted we decided to create our magazine, and now we had collabs, made loads of posts, strengthened und ourselves a brand of true sincerity. We are a magazine, but I want to acknowledge how far
ng team, who deserve so much appreciation for words that describe them as people; instead of celebrity twin sort of. It’s not our lookalikes, but s.
Sin
Sin T
ncerity Team ncerity Team
Editorsin Editorsin Safrina
Saodat nChief nChief
Caffeine addict
Sarcastic
Smart as hell
Control freak
Lady Gaga/Sabrina
Carpenter’s daughter
Literally the best person on the entire planet
Zaara
GraphicD GraphicD
the Beach Iced Tea Bed Music- future, fleetwood mac, lucki billie eilish Vanilla scents
Taylor Russell if she was a kickass graphic designer
Designers Designers
Coke Zero
Bad sleep schedule
Funny Fashion Matcha
Alex Consani if she hated biology and was an incredible graphic designer
Malika
SocialMed SocialMed aziza
Fashion Art Lego Rap Russian dumplings (pelmeni) Emma Chamberlain on crack and without the coffee
dia Managers diaManagers
yul
Cat Strawberry cake Sea Coush Sunrise