There's something about this time of year. It's the winter months coming in. The dying months. And although I never met a Thanksgiving or Christmas I didn't like, there's always this period right before they roll around where I feel....well, I just feel.
Everything gets suddenly magnified, so that it's hard to remember what's important and it's impossible to tell how to shake up the snow globe of my life so that everything settles right side up again. Some days I go out and everything smells so good and I want to talk to everyone and they make me feel so warm and right. And the next day I don't want to step outside, not once, I don't even want to open the door for more than a second, and I wonder about how different life would be if it didn't feel so incredibly and devastatingly long.
Everything is just so much. And I have to remind myself that that's the way I wanted it. And I stand at the window and watch everything curl up and drift like dry, bone feathers onto the ground, and I remember.