Honestly, at this very moment, snowy scenes leave me uninspired. As partial as I am to any extreme, I really prefer warmer weather right now. My mom bought me a space heater for my room, and now she can barely stand to walk because of the heat (and also because I tend to dislike anyone opening the door and letting the cold in). For the sake of this journal I will try to put myself in the shoes I will be wearing a few weeks from now.
I love the cold. Sometimes I take off my gloves and leave my hands still just to feel the aching coldness creep into them. I know it is a bit odd, but there is a strange sort of pleasure in letting go of the heat held close to your body, and letting the bitter winter take its place. I take walks when I get restless (which is rather frequent), and then I can really feel it. My hands ache and I my cheeks burn. I walk quickly so I can get home and warm up faster, but I pass my house to go around the block again when I get there.
When it is wet outside, the street lights make everything shine, and make it look as though every branch on every tree had grown specially to surround the light in a natural wreath. This does not last long though, because when the water freezes entire trees light up. Then, there are the terrors of walking in the snow. Trudging with wet feet, and sometimes soaked all the way up to my knee, it is easy to imagine mysilf in a Siberian work camp (which is always entertaining).
I mainly love the winter because it is something to fight against. It is terribly infrequent for me to have conflicts of any kind, so I am glad to make the entire season my opponent. Let it throw its worst at me, and just watch to see if I let it beat me.
Is it just me, or is it a little warm in here?
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