It’s May 9th. Three months past my birthday. It’s snowing. It’s windy and cold. Although from where I sit the sky is bright blue.
With the cold wind comes a cold heart. I am distant, for I really only feel comfortable far away. The present is too much.
It’s always been this way — This isn’t new. Yet the circumstances surrounding a whole other slew of anxiety issues is…
So I retreat inward while I’m unable to run away physically; Let my mind sail on the wind, riding the snowflakes that cling to spring’s arrival. Sometimes it feels more like I’m swimming against its current, rather than being the go-with-the-flow kind of Avatar.
I watered my plants, and cleaned the kitchen. Tidied the office and smudged my easel. The sun shines like a tease. But my toes are still cold.
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Roy Rogers courtesy of Google Search.