(no subject)
She tossed the snowball back and forth between her ungloved hands. Every now and then she’d stop, pressing the snow firmly between her hands, making it more condensed, making it tougher. Her hands started to sting, so she picked up the pace of the tossing, minimizing the second the snow was pressed against unprotected flesh. She had no reason to carry the snowball, no particular attachment to it. She’d just seen the tossed-aside snow and grabbed a handful. When the cold really became unbearable, she cupped it in her sleeve, flexing the fingers of her free hand. They stung, and soon drifted into that pleasant warm territory, where your body is desperately praying you didn’t hurt anything with your reckless attachment to the cold.
So, my mom tentatively broke the idea of finishing school in a year after this semester to me.
Now I'm sort of freaking out, as many a college student before me has freaked out.
A bit of it is probably another resurgence of "feel good about a paper? CONGRATS IT'S A C"
SORRY I ONLY UPDATE MY JOURNAL WHEN I FEEL INSECURE