It feels like winter, but it’s not. The temp. on my computer desktop says 45 degrees. Lately I’ve been waking up feeling like a character in one of my stories. My head is numb with the chill of the room, yet my body is warm from my electric blanket.
I know it is a little ways off yet, but I’m not feeling too good about winter. I can remember, years ago, my first time dreading the coming of the season. It’s not just snow that falls, it’s something else. It’s like a world coming down, covering mine in a blanket of white, reminding me that life has to change. I have problems accepting the seasons as they come and go. Perhaps that is a subtle way of telling myself that I don’t respond well to change.
This entry will most likely stand alone with none following it for awhile. Just typing these words takes me back to a bad time.
So we won’t start this again.
