now, it's like scalpels. it's like being choked and dragged down the street, or like your body is being pushed from every single angle by opposing forces, until you crumble under the weight. i forget how fast it gets cold here. it's only my third winter.
it brings with it a quiet darkness in my mind as well, which wraps around my neck as well, pulling tighter. and it'll grab me forcefully and kick me to the ground and yell at me about being meaningless again. and it's a lie. i know this. it's only a week, or a few days even. i know what's happening, and this too will pass away, and soon i'll slip back into my more normal state. but a change of seasons will bring it in, dark curtains over my head, and i will drown a little day by day until i swim again.
i want to buy books. somehow i feel like this will cheer me up. or i'll have a bath. i ate duck, and it was good, and drank red wine. i want to be coiled up around another warm body like a spring, reminding me i am alive, but i don't trust myself. i don't trust what i want, or what i'd veil in cautious optimism as a possibility. sshhhhh. shh. don't put your eggs in that basket. remember, it always ends like this.
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