Snow


How beautiful is the world outside me! The blue of the morning and the foggy afternoons I crave as I stare at the leafless trees drenched in vast nothingness, holding onto naked branches as they try their best to let go. Nature always has a say in the chaos, in the entropy of life and lifelessness, but it missed the human soul. In those shimmering lights from cars and buses, I see a foreshadowing of my own, with trembling fears and a scarred red, waiting silently for the lights to go green. It snowed, and I could sense that wet feeling of coldness on my skin. For once, I knew what cold feels like when it does not come from within. For once, I knew that there was something colder than me. For once, I wasn’t alone in this coldness, and for once, I felt happy. In the nights without jackets as I walked in the streets waiting for the coldness of the wind, I was reminded that there was lifelessness waiting for me. It was cold, it was what I needed. In those sweet shivers I felt with every breeze, in those kindled apprehensions of my reality durable enough to warm me up, I felt a sense of belonging in the wind, in its coldness, and in its very own existence. I hope to befriend it someday. I hope it finds me before it’s too late. 

You see, my world revolves around predicaments. I don’t believe that I am a person, the amount of coldness I carry for this world is enough to deter me from any warmth from this reality. I want numbness, the extremity of it, I want to be shredded to the core just to know what it would feel like to bear pain in the presence of warmth. I hope to die soon, as the wind would caress me in its whimsical chill, the shivers from the leafless trees around me all waving their goodbyes and my frosty hands and lips drenched in snow with a taint of purple in my eyes. I hope to feel this death, this eternal warmth. I hope to smile at the flakes that cover me in their entirety, because for once, I was happy. Is this too much to ask from life?


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