Do you ever wonder if we are somehow connected with our planet? As if it's fate is intertwined with ours? Oh, because I do. I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt as if I were thriving. Last winter was one of the coldest I've lived through. It creeped in, slow as ever, freezing me from the inside out. First, it started with my heart, the most vulnerable part of me. When my heart had been captured, the rest of my body surrendered. I heard the whispers, the rumors, but I could not bring myself to care. I did not realize I was dying from frostbite until he saved me. I wouldn’t say saved as much as thawed. He came into my life and held on so tight that the seemingly unbreakable wall of ice around my heart, cracked right open. He was spring and he rejuvenated me. He thawed out my body and my vessels were running with the full force of a river filling with snow melt. He wrapped me in his arms and I swear his beating heart resuscitated my still one. What was vacant chamber, was now filling with warmth and hope.
But, you know what they say about hope. It breeds misery.
I was living and running and basking in the sun for some time. But, it didn’t take me long to figure out the frostbite leaves permanent damage. I had only been on a high. High from all the oxygen coursing through me, high from those dark blue eyes promising me everything. Then fall came around, and those gentle hands and shining eyes turned into arguments lasting for nights. Late nights of laughter turned into sleeping pills and whiskey and late mornings. He had left and I found out that my heart never really started beating again. The tissue had been dead for months; his sweet words fooled me into believing I had been healed.
This winter is awfully mild, almost as if the storm inside me has gotten tired of restlessly beating me down. I feel oddly calm, an unsettling calm. Numb would be a good word. I can't feel anything anymore. I've tried to let the poor boy in and I have tried to let her in. I just don’t feel the spark. I don’t see what use it is to waste effort on somebody I know I am going to leave in the cold. I am waiting for him to come back because I know winter is going to hit me with full force one of these nights. For now, I'll just leave the whiskey bottle on my bed stand. I'll lock the pills in my jewelry box. I'll save my remedies for the day that I find that I can’t run from the vengeful earth no more, for the day that I can't run from you anymore.