the days pass by silently without giving me much time to turn around and watch them and when i sit inside my room i am once again greeted by that old, familiar chill of winter

teapots full of emotions are being boiled over a stove that is clearly not warm enough to warm my whole body, but it keeps on burning regardless, and i notice that no one thinks much of anything unless it concerns themselves

i get this chill when the nighttime slows down that things are going to end, that everyone is going to vanish like the snow that tries in vain each year to stay forever, but then my thoughts leave as fast as the warmth of spring

winter is that old friend that you love to see but hate to keep you company when he opens his mouth about the things that used to be, about how you used to look out your window and see him fall behind tears, sparkling eyes, and disappointments and trust me, i get enough headaches nowadays to block out those memories but i can't forget dates in december that shaped who i was in january

if there's a piece of advice i would give someone, someone full of loneliness and desolation, full of the contents of despair, enough so that they feel they could burst, that they feel no matter what they do there will always be a dead end, that feel that they don't even want to write the tragedies they think and experience down in a journal because god forbid someone would ever open it, so they just stay bottled up

if there's one piece of advice i would give to them, it would be let your thoughts pour out like the way old winter brings them back; one night, just cry and let it drain you from any more tears; let that old, hideous, beat down, torn, broken, revolting chill freeze your mind, so that you finally get a *break