Conversations Through Glass

The Snow

I crawl into bed as soon as we get home, just wallowing in my emptiness. I don't want to move, I don't want to think, I don't even want to breathe. I just want to stop being hollow. To stop BEING, period. But I can't. Something, some little angel in the back of my mind, whispers all the reasons I can't just stop being. And for some reason, I listen to it. I just lay there and wallow.

It only feels like a few minutes to me, but after a while my mom comes in to tell me that school is cancelled because of all the snow, and it occurs to me that it's morning. I blink at the white streets and pale, grayish sky outside my window.

The snow. I hate it. It taunts me. It's so pristine and perfect, while here I am, a broken mess of a half-person, not even really a being anymore. It seems to know all this, and it glitters at me, looking as though it is giggling at my misfortune and misery. Who is it to laugh at sorrow!? It's so unfair. It only finds sorrow amusing because it has never felt any pain itself.

"Anna? Honey?" My mom says worriedly, snapping me from my angry thoughts.

"Hm?" I grunt, more aggressively than I mean to.

"I asked you if you wanted some cocoa..." She replies, brows knitted in a worried expression.

"Oh....um....sure." I reply, my angry demeanor melting at her warmth and love. I can't refuse. 

She exits the room and I settle back into my blankets and pillow. I'm tired. I fall asleep, the malicious snow peeping through my window.