|It's all fun and games in Janunary...|
|It stops being fun March 3...|
This looming darkness of a never-ending winter creeps into my mind; stealing laughter and expanding my waistline. “I’m sick of it,” I exclaim yet again. A mental malaise has plagued this winter, fighting back with hope just to breathe above the
water’s blizzard's break: I hope this snow is the last. A winter of challenges and a chosen sort of solitude, personified by Mother Nature, magnified by her wrath; played out like the war in my mind. The clouds win again today, but, I tell myself, the sun is coming. It will be back.
This is my version of hope.
At once the green will grow; the sun will shine from sky of a pure and welcoming blue. Flowers will blossom and baby birds will annoy the shit out of us with their morning cries of hunger. Our beds will disinterest and our collective goal will be 72 and happiness. Our Earth will warm. It will. It will. It will. And we’ll be okay again.
Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetle…