meticulous

Once again, the start of a new month. Snow has already fallen, and there is an errie hussle of human logic shutting down. No longer laughing and creating, their brains are in survival mode. For this reason alone, I hate winter.

During every change of season I go through a psychological breakdown. I analyze every decision I've made, and slump around the house crying for nearly a week. Sudden changes in temperature define my mood swings, tending to drive those around me farther away emotionally. Each season this happens; friends become irritated and my solitude more defined.

Then nearing the end of those spring, summer, autumn, or winter months we all grow near again. Yet, I'll throw myself into despair, and the cycle continues as always. Except, each turn around, the friends become more and more weary of this unpredictability. They slowly fade away, with their last memory of me being one painted with dark colours.

Alas, I can only sigh...

My mother is the same way. Now, in middle age, she is completely miserable. Alone, wallowing in her own self-pity. Utterly absorbed in her turmoil, expressing her desires to anyone who will listen (or pretend to listen.). I am destined to be that woman, so confident, but so self-loathing it drives away your sanity.

And no one loves the insane.

(Wow.. winter takes it out on me.. hahaha)