My Thoughts

The frost.

The frost grows in my mind, the cold feeling that slowly numbs my limbs a bit more every morning. Certain songs allow the icy breeze to brush over me and keep me captive. Certain people do the same. The same frozen dance, so slow and gradual but something so small yet consistent will eventually build up and become something no one can combat, not even the strongest of people. The mornings used to be the worst of it. Id wake up at 6 and stare for 30 minutes. Not long after I would start to drag myself around, getting ready to thaw out of the cold. I'd swing open the door and leave the safe house. Slowly make my way to the bus stop and wait. Sometimes I'd be there for seconds, other times hours. That's what it felt like anyway. Staring at the freezing breath bursting from my lips every 7 or 8 seconds. The bus would eventually arrive and id sit there. Constantly rubbing my eyes and turning up the icy music to empty the bags under my eyes yet it would still slow me down. Id stare at frost covered trees and families walking and smiling, I envied them. At some point I'd reach the end, put my phone in my pocket and start walking. The worst part. The constant trudging for an hour every morning, head hanging low avoiding eye contact and covering everything that differentiates me from them. Making myself inconspicuous even though I had nothing to be worried about. Glancing from side to side and picking my pace up every time my heart beats. My thoughts rushing about every person I ever knew contemplating if I could've done something to stop this cold. One day the frost overran me and I didn't show up to my destination. I stood at the top of a bridge and looked down. My knees buckled and tears fell. I stood there waiting for someone, anyone. Not a person walked by or a car drive past. I stood in fear of myself. No one but me was scary anymore. I look down at my dirty hands and use them to support my weak feet, grabbing ahold of the barriers. I stare down. It's empty. It's empty. I can't do it. I turn and wipe my eyes and hold my breath, trying to keep back the tears. I carry on my March but this time in a different direction, with hope of a different outcome. Yet the next day I returned to my original March, my original routine. The frost managed to catch me.