It’s the holiday season and I want to crawl into a cave and hide from everyone I know.

It’s not you, it’s me.

I’m serious. You’ve done nothing wrong. It really is me. My inner goblin has been greedily grasping at everyone solitary moment I’ve been able to muster for the past month.

Her hunger is becoming insatiable. She wants to wander around a vacant room in no bra, loose workout clothes that are so soft with age they are practically see through, and soft socks so thick I’d have to buy shoes a size up to wear them out of the house.

She wants to binge-watch shows for days at a time or listen to whole books on tape without stopping for a single conversation.

She wants to go entire days without uttering a single word aloud.

As the days tick by to the greediest, gift-givingest day of them all my inner goblin is taking me over and urging me to run and hide and become one with my sheets and blankets. She turns my eyes from the sunlight peering through the window in the morning and pushes the phone away from me when a text comes through.

She is drooling for a chance to disappear.