I can feel winter coming.
It’s more than the wind that scrapes me every time I’m forced to go outside, it’s more than the ice in the air every time I breath, spiraling away from me like smoke.
It’s the ice that’s settling into the pit of my stomach, the pit of my soul.
I can feel myself freezing.
I don’t remember warmth, I live in the dark. I’ve got nothing and no one to keep me from this hailstorm
It’s the ice in my mind, every morning taking longer and longer to thaw, no matter how many pills I feed it
It’s the ice in my bones, freezing me in place. Movement isn’t impossible, it’s painful, and the cracks are starting to show through
I know what I do in winter.
I cry in winter, in the morning when I realize I’m awake and in the night when I realize I’m alone
I don’t walk in winter, I shuffle and I dig myself deeper into the ground with every footstep
I think too much in winter, I think myself in circles around the room and sometimes 6 feet below the ground, no longer pacing
heart no longer beating or burning
I know who I am in winter
I am a shadow in winter, the absence of light
I am a girl, just a girl, and hardly old enough to die, but apparently old enough to barely live
I am a fool in winter, who looks for warmth and finds a fire, enjoying the burns because she’s missed the sensation of feeling
I am alone in winter, because no one hears this story, and no one knows how far into the ground I fall
I hope to survive in winter, because that’s the most I can ask for
From the mind of someone just beginning to sink into that seasonal depression, and feeling scared the farther down I go