I can't remember when I last heard the wind whisper through the leaves of the trees, when I last saw the dappled, dancing shadows on the turf, when I last breathed in the smell of summer rain.

It feels like years since last summer,  years since I was happy, years of unending winter, years of struggling to get through.

And just when spring peaks o'er the earth and hope starts anew, everything is dashed by the return of the cruel snow, like a man being thrown back into prison after his first glimpse of light in years.

Just as summer seems so unattainable, so too does the happiness which has long been lost to me. Summer will come eventually, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be happy again.