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Some Place March 10, 2011

Posted by sarahsfate in My Own Personal Trials.
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It’s cold today. Colder inside the office building than it is outside, though still, for March, it is unreasonable cold. Unreasonable? Unseasonal. Maybe. I have not stopped feeling like the perfect solution to the day is to wrap myself in blankets with a hot cup of coffee in front of a roaring fire. The problem, of course, is that I have too long of a to-do list to allow myself to engage in the ‘perfect solution’.  I do not sit still well anyway, feeling this perpetual need to be doing something. I do not even stand still for sixty seconds while a cup of water heats in the microwave. No. I turn to do something productive in those sixty seconds.

Which is ridiculous.

What I really want, almost desperately, is to feel warm. I want to sit pool-side with little rivulets of sweat running down my back, fanning myself with a t-shirt I had to peel off, while bitterly complaining about the damn heat. Texas gets hot. Our state is well-known for its heat. And cows. And stetsons. I don’t wear a stetson, in case you’re wondering. And I don’t own a cow.

I hate the feeling of always waiting for something. Waiting for winter. Waiting for summer. Waiting for a cool breeze. Waiting to feel warm. Winter becomes so biting it is as though the chill creeps into my bones to forever-more emanate outward so that no matter how many layers I’m wearing…I’m still cold.

I think it has something to do with things other than just the season. The winter wind can only do so much. If I’m sitting in my house, cooking in the kitchen where the heat is surmountable only to the built-in heater, and the space heater I have plugged in nearby, I should be warm. I should be sweltering, even. But it’s a cold I feel everywhere. It must come from within. It must come from the same place where the echo of silence emanates from.

Some place dark. Some place mute. Some place hollow.

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