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January
Walking to my bus stop, walking to school. Walking the mere 1/3 block to the nearest heated building. It's like being bitten by a dragon, only it isn't warm. It's freezing. The bite. It's cold. My eyes are sensitive to everything, so when the wind chill less than exists, tears roll down my face, disobeying my frustrated pleas. They glide down to the half-way mark of my nose before suddenly halting in place, genuinely frozen to my cheek. These are the days the salt on the ground and the various piles of dark brown clots from car wheels finally get to me. Normally cold weather is a haven for me, but I don't want the wind. The bitch slap of the century. It's physical abuse of my mom, my mother, it hurts and makes me cry until tears freeze to my face. Mother Nature doesn't feel. Then my biological father has a black face mask that he wears in the slightest notion of cold. The face mask is harmless by itself, but then. . .my father straps it on his face and his breath through the collection of little holes make the mask come to life; he is a vulture with the unnecessary sharp nose and difficult observation of the eyes. My only escape from the fingernails of winter is to sleep. And dream of Summer.
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I am writing a story, I am writing an essay. Both will make me proud. For now, I'll blog and post on forums I love. <3
Also, I missed this place.
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