I am again feeling sensitive and on the verge, oh the cycles of life and how it all comes back around. This time last month I was crying to Lorde and in the middle of two boys. Now one feels of a distant universe, and the other calls me his girlfriend. I don’t quite feel like he’s my boyfriend, and I don’t call him mine yet nor do I think of myself as having one. But if he wants to he may. He’s the boy I’m seeing, my partner perhaps — often that’s what he feels like (funny, I used to roll my eyes at this word and its pretension, but now I understand it. there is magnanimity in it, downstream of respect. It is true. Partners, because we consider each other). These other words with boys and girls in them, they sound slightly wrong, just a bit of fun, not quite patronizing of me or him, but of perhaps the relationship(?) (Is that what boyfriends and girlfriends have? Relationship is much too heavy a word for these two to carry...). It is more lovely to me to be everything while nothing. And then marriage. Only these two things. Only they make sense. Nothing, and everything. Simple! well Ok, pass through partnership on the way, when you live together and share friends, that is real, but not us... so boy-girl-friendship? well Ok I see yes a bit of fun... He’s reading this, hello boyfriend
This winter is suddenly very long, distended like a sick person’s stomach; everyone feels it, everyone is sick with the same thing and our bellies arch past our hips, navel past knees. My house is cold when the outside is. I have become thinner and here it’s not advantageous. Warming up is a challenge. Food is boring. reading hard. I grey.
But allow me, give me just a moment. Yes, winter gives way to spring. And then summer. And then I will forget how it feels to be cold. I won’t even be able to recall it. And I will miss winter’s austerity and piety. How the frost creeps across my windows in wonderful patterns and snow glitters in the light. Let me soak up its last weeks! Let me rest, and ice skate, and pray. Let me feel cold and crystal. Let me make another soup and read as much as I can. Because I love extremes, I admire them, everything and nothing! and it is so cold outside one can taste its bitterness — real sensation! My hands are like ice packs! When the world begins to thaw and people emerge out into it, the warmth will feel so sweet, we will become lizards who bake in the sun, stick a knife in! we are done! We will forget how bitter cold tastes on our lips, like women forget the pain of childbirth. Winter, I love you. You pass through me like a loved one’s ghost. You leave a chill through my body, goosebumps across my skin, warmth in my heart. Winter I will miss you all of the sudden. You are sugar-coated again. And I am stable
