Winter

It's 3:30 AM, and I need to write. It's cold out, a little shiver here and there does a good bit of something to you. My feet are chilly, but it's a reminder that they're still around, huddled underneath my computer desk. Warm drinks are like million dollar checks, and the burning sensation they tear down your throat is nothing less than therapeutic.

I love it all, I could drown myself in these sensations, these deliciously cold and moody days. So incredibly satisfying to prance around in, while somehow still evoking the darkest emotions from within. My easily amused exterior somehow contains vast reserves of darkness far below the surface, simmering and seething, and days like these, while they tease my senses and tickle my nostalgia, somehow bring those deeper feelings closer to the surface.

Is it simple the quality of it? The texture, the rolling waves of it? I can't tell what it is, merely a sensation. Perhaps it is simply too much to give a single name. If I could sort them out, and name them by the hundreds, perhaps it wouldn't be so dark after all. Or maybe there is no beginning nor end to them, and naming them would just be disguising them further. I have not the talent to tell.

It's hard to work some days. All I can think about is a particular fiery torch of emotions, another Aribeth. A brief, brilliant, blinding flash of emotions that simply obscures everything else, and leave a large spot in your vision. You can try to blink it away, but yet still see the outline of it with your eyes closed. A little bit of daring goes a long ways, but it's a difficult thing to find with a schedule packed from wall to wall, the less important bits dribbling out the sides.

If I could ride a train through the dark snowy forests, I would. Sit upon the thunderous creature, riding down the shining tracks that wind through the miles and miles of ...everything. The shaking, pounding sensation of the massive engines beating their wheels forward is intoxicating. The only thing I could compare it to is the heavy beat of bass belting out from a hundred speakers. It's not Love, but it'd do, in a pinch.

I just need more. Or less. A little more less. I wish I knew.