There was a girl. A girl I once knew who never felt cold. Never felt cold when taking a shower in freezing water. Never felt cold when she would stand at the bus stop in 6 degree weather with barely anything on. Never felt the slightest bit of cold even when she layed down in the snow for 5 hours. In fact, she loved the cold. She embraced it; she loved how cold the winter was in Michigan. She loved feeling the icy wind hit her face and body when she wasn't wearing much. She loved the way it made her hands and face feel anesthetic . It made her feel alive, refreshed even, and that’s all she ever craved for. But she still never felt how cold it actually was. But why? Why did she love it that much? Why couldn't she ever feel frigid like everyone else? Why love something, something you cant really feel? Because even though she couldn't feel how shivery cold it was on the outside, maybe that’s how her heart was. Maybe that’s how she felt on the inside. **Numbing cold.