December, December, how is it December?
The flowing current that is life has sucked me in and not returned me to dry land. I lose hours under fluorescents in the library, trying to will myself to complete what I’ve started, by any means possible. I long for nothing more than sleep. I wake up unmotivated to leave my bed, and often, because I have nowhere else to be, I succumb to the soft warmth.
Aside from sleep, I long for the wind on my face. I forget to go outside, and I miss the day. Daylight leaves early. Rain doesn’t abate. Snow has yet to appear. I miss moving quickly. I miss doing everything.
It's the same time of year that I crave my desert winter city, the warmth of my love, the depth of snow and time to lose myself in.
