:: christmas ::

Winter is hard on my soul; my hands are always cold. At least there's Christmas in the middle or I'd probably turn gray like everything else. Instead it's all red and tinsel. These are the things that keep me warm.

:: loved ::

Some people love me in spite of who I am; others, because of who I am.  It is in the presence of the latter that I am most free.

It's Monday night and we're here by Christmas tree light. Barely hanging on right now, not emotionally but mentally. I feel stupider today than most others, like my words are all syllable-stutters and my sentence, once presented, made so much more sense in my head. Is what I write even reflective of reality? This is my lab, with everything measure out and lined up in sterilized beakers. Squeaky clean. Even my messes look neat once they're bottled and corked.

:: dear winter, ::

If you weren't so dreary, I think I'd like you better. I do love wearing sweaters, and scarves, and having a good reason to stay inside and drink hot things. But maybe you should consider sprucing yourself up a bit, maybe work on being a little brighter. No one wants a cold front at their party, and it's a bit of a disappointment to work all day and find there's no day left to drive away in. So all I'm saying is, if you plan on staying, do you think you could lighten up a little?