Some days, writing flows effortlessly. Thoughts line up, words take shape, sentences keep adding up. Today is not one of those days. My mind drifts. My body resists. There’s a restlessness in me, a stubbornness I can’t quite explain, other than this lingering unease that comes with the winter.
The cold settled into everything – into my bones, into my mood, it’s all around me. Watching the endless blankets of snow falling rapidly makes me dizzy, and instead of feeling the beauty of it, I feel the weight. The winter days stretch too long, the grey sky presses down on me, and the snow keeps ruining my plans. With every passing year, winter feels more unbearable.
I sit here, thinking what to write, yet every thought feels sluggish. Maybe it’s the winter that makes me feel this way. Maybe it’s just one of those days.
So instead of fighting it, I’ll just say this – I don’t feel like writing anything meaningful today. And I keep telling myself that’s okay.