Okay so I know its uncool to still believe in Santa at my age, but I have totally legit reasoning. Back when I was a kid my family was not poor, but we had the type of parents who'd rather spend money on themselves and only worked if they absolutely had to(Actually this was my mom, she had abandoned all of our dads and was living off welfare and child support).
So anyway, there were no gifts for us that christmas. Then up to our door one day walks some mysterious stranger carting loads of gifts in a car. Not all of these were for us mind you, but he did give me and my siblings gifts that christmas. Now all of this can be explained off as charity and crude up till this point, but one thing you can't explain is how everyone got the exact thing that they had wanted. For my little sister, a new Bop-it to replace her old one, for my brother power-ranger figures of his favorite super heros. And for me; socks, dress-cloths, and a tennis racquet. The exact freakin' things I had wanted for so long.
Now you can say that my bro is a typical boy and that the Bop-it thing was pure luck, but you can't tell me that someone out there knew that I wanted flipping socks for christmas. Santa is real, and he may not be the magical man who goes around delivering presents to boys and girls in a sleigh like the legends say. For me Santa is a guy named Rusty who walked up to my door one day and made me remember that even though my mom's a crappy adult, not everyone is like that.