y'know?
i mean,
goodbyes and endings are my least favorites,
at least,
when i wish there was more of whatever is over.
and almost always, that's almost everything.
my immune system, or lack thereof,
and my shivering bones,
and the mountains of frozen-over snow outside,
however,
are totally all all set with the maximum capacities
and minimum thresholds they're currently hovering around.
uh-huh.
this winter ate a bag of balls,
and i'm ready for something new.
no jokes.
the thing of it is-
there's probably way more of this back-breaking, will-bending,
sleepless, creepy, crappy, spirit-sapping
sh!t-salad ahead for weeks to come.
the equinox is basically hanging around at the outer edges of
the seasonal change situation,
and while light and dark may be balanced on the books,
it's lugubrious and haunted in practice every damned day.
the peripheral brightening is apparently for chronological purposes only.
time has passed,
but the weather remains the same.
gross.
i made cookies, tho.
uh-huh.
check the teleport:
hearts!
the leftover dough from welcome-home tarts was rolled out
and cut into and baked up to become crunchy sugar-style treats.
waste not, want not, and you need not go without sugar cookies.
that's smart.
oh,
and i don't know if this is completely a bad thing...
but i might be developing an allergy to something.
it's either almonds or hearts,
and if i know my oddsmaking numberwangs like i know i do-
it's not the nuts,
but the love that's kicking my A*.
ugh.
i'll finish the plate of 41 cardiac-attacking anaphylactic almond assaults,
and i'll have a nice warm glass of cinnamon-spiced almond milk on the side.
huh?
no way, neighbors.
it's NOT a death wish.
what's wrong with you?
i'm just choosing the wrench.
relax.
it's gotta be survival of the fittest-
either my heart gives out, or those hearts run out.
hmm?
oh.
heck no, kids.
i'm not afraid.
snacking on tastiness is not how i go out.
that unmemorable day won't be until i've endured several worse winters,
and become a completely forgotten footnote in the annals of warrior poetry.
a fleeting, absentminded afterthought will be the last consideration i'm paid,
and then, years later, i'll finally take the wheezing weak-sauce
i'll slip away surrounded by nobody,
and i'll mummify overwinter before anybody notices i'm gone.
womp womp.
until then,
it's shark gluttonous wrenches,
hard styles,
looooong nights,
broken bodyparts,
shed skins,
and lots and lots and lots of F*ing cookies.
hahahahaha.
nobody leaves with the title, that's for sh!t-sure.
so,
just as long as i'm the miserable-est,
i'm gonna keep going strong along the whole distance.
there is only ever more of this.
because this is What Is.
winter's ending looks like spring's beginning.
there's virtually no changes being made.
new skin for old ceremony remains the order of the day;
never quiet,. never soft.....
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