what the animals know
Walking home the other day: it was dark, cold, the sidewalks weren't plowed. icey crunching slush spilled over driveways into the road, i was wearing tiny, flimsy shoes with bare feet slowly turning deep red inside. The wind was blowing angry, explosions of furious white snow flowing through the winter air, catching street lights and glittering in a menacing way, the shiny mini flags at the used car dealership flapping in tandem with the trees branches, weak and skeletal waving -
and it felt so good, i pulled my scarf off. The icy blast hit my face so hard and cold, tiny flakes trailing over my skin and falling under my jacket, carressing every exposed inch my eyelashes coated in white snow-
-blinking
i felt so alive. for the first time in a long time i felt every bit awake, my blood was streaming warm underneath my skin, my fingertips were part frozen and splotchy, my lips were cracking but inside my tongue was hot-
it just felt so fucking good to be alive.
and it felt so good, i pulled my scarf off. The icy blast hit my face so hard and cold, tiny flakes trailing over my skin and falling under my jacket, carressing every exposed inch my eyelashes coated in white snow-
-blinking
i felt so alive. for the first time in a long time i felt every bit awake, my blood was streaming warm underneath my skin, my fingertips were part frozen and splotchy, my lips were cracking but inside my tongue was hot-
it just felt so fucking good to be alive.