i could be

Colder

In order to know the cold, one must have felt warmth. After all, that is what makes the cold so unbearable isn't it?

Physically, she had felt the warmth. The heat of the sun against her skin was no new sensation. But while warmth was synonymous with safety and comfort for many, she had never understood that. The heat was uncomfortable and at times painful. It was heavy, like smoke. Made her cough and choke and weep.

She had always preferred the cold. Cold showers, cold weather, cold houses, cold towns with cold people, cold snow on a cold face. It reminded her that she was alive. In the summer the feeling of her blood pumping just blends in with all the other fuzzy sensations, but in the winter she feels alive. Her body reacts and her hearts hammers in her chest with a thundering rhythm.

The cold made her forget how much she hated living. If you could call what she did living. It was more like floating. Floating through towns past people she never bothered to talk to who payed no mind to the utterly uninteresting girl. She went through the motions of being a teenager with no argument. Wake up unnaturally early, wash a pimply face, brush teeth, judge bodies for being bodies, go to school, complain about homework, do said homework, listen to angsty music, feel as empty inside as cookie jar that is a reigning disappointment to children in kitchens across the world, once a month feel even more empty inside for suddenly there's less blood in her than there was a day before, and every night come to the realization that happiness is a figment of our imagination. After all, besides those people who are stupidly selfless and halfway across the world helping people who are living lives with meaning, who the fuck is actually happy?

Many people probably. Just not her. Not the cold little girl in a cold little house. With a warm family and warm cookies in a half empty cookie jar.