i remember the last time i felt in extremes. i remember the sun and the moon, hanging in balance between pendulum eyes. i remember when i felt fine. better yet, i remember when i wanted to feel anything, sad or happy, and wanted it to last. i remember when i dreamed of people who didn't, and places that lasted, and people to call and places to be, even if only once. now i love the cold, and i stand outside with wet hair, and watch my breath swirl around me like feathers in the breeze. my fingers are cold, but i like the burn. i don't want to get better.