My name is...
It's snowing outside; the kind of chunky snow that beats the ground like it's vengeful or something, you know?
It's our first day back from our first semester of our first college, and we think the grey is affecting our mood. We've done nothing but sleep since we've been back, and whenever we wake up we just want to sleep again. And I keep sleeping on my arm until it gets white and tingly, and we ease the bloodflow back into it, but my shoulder is still stiff and sore. But that's all just physical stuff, and we can deal with physical because we're tough cookies.
We don't like dreaming, though. We dream about bad things. We both love winter, but we dream about freezing to death in the snow, but it's always unusually warm, and once we're dead we can't do anything but not exist. We dream about others like us, and Dachau. We dream of our old country and our old home, the one by the mountains, and we dream of the little girl behind the shed. I don't dream in red, but my other does--we're both colorblind, but myself, I only see black and white. My other sees red and green. It is our only difference, and nobody knows it but us. I am told the little girl had red hair and green eyes. We think she was Romani, but we were just children, and we can't be sure.
We do like snow, on any point. Especially when it's thick and heavy, and sticks to the ground, and it is to-night, so we are both pleased. We just hope it isn't so grey in the morning.
~MwH~