I want to disappear into the snow. This winter will never end. We are doomed. We are all doomed. This white cold hell is drown us all. I miss my empty feeling. Michael is sitting dead center of the living room playing a marathon of MLB video game. He rests between me and the purse. I'm going to have to bit the bullet and grab some. Thankfully he usually isn't that interested in what I put in my body. And completely ignores what comes out of it.
Winter can't last, but this can. I can't last, but winter will.