Hello, winter. I have been waiting for you.
Today is your birthday. I don’t know how old you are, but to me, you are four years old. Happy birthday.
The 21st of December.
You hold so many birthdays, deaths, marriages, and celebrations. Oh winter, we adore you. We love you. We really do.
Yet you came so early this year.
The perfect version of you – white and cold. But not too cold. Soft.
The perfect version of you has snow on Christmas night and New Year’s Eve. The perfect you has hot chocolate with marshmallows. A winter ball. Long nights and short mornings. Long shoes and short dresses. Weak fabric and strong coffee.
But I know you. Yes, we do, I do,
The history between us two.
How scared am I to know,
That autumn leaves start to fall,
To know that the autumn leaves have all left their branches.
Dear winter, you are so hard on me.
Too dark for me. A part of me.
You make me shake, you lift my head from my shoulders and absorb me. In your dark clouds that don’t know whether to fall liquid or solid. And you drag me.
In the sky. You move me and leave me dizzy. You lift me to bury me. High in the warmth of your coldness.
And somehow, I like it. You became a part of me.
You got me. The caring one.
Don’t compare my love to any other addiction. No longing to whatever cigarette or drink can be compared to my love. For believing. For people. For music. For helping. For you, winter. I love you.
I became so attached to your shadow that your shadow became the reflection of my light. Oh, winter. What have you done to me? I look like you when I cry.
You’re like humans. You punish me for being loyal to you, showing you the best of me. No matter how, you punish me. You choke me and cut my skin. You leave me with unread letters and you mute my voice. You shove me to a side you are no longer interested in to look at.
I convinced myself that you know the best for me. I loved you so much, I began to feel things for you.
I was not only a part of you, you became a part of me.
I felt responsibility.
You had the rights to humiliate me.
You make me run to people that don’t exist, people I make up in my mind, covered in the skin of men that don’t know how to deal with a mess like me. But in my mind, it’s okay. It’s supposed to be this way.
You make me think no one cares. You make me think I can vanish. You make me feel like the sun will shine and the moon will greet the stars, and the world will spin when I’m gone, too. And they will. But without me.
You make me run away from the shoulders I should be leaning on, running towards you instead.
You make me deal with sadness by filling my body with sugar. And you take my appetite away after I see the reflection of your property.
You make me. You shape me. In whatever you think is the best for you. I romanticised you because I want you. But I became you. I made myself believe you do this for me. Oh winter, I look like you when I cry.
How I can end the story and cut the line, close the doors and burn your hate with love. I have the recipe for the cure, the ingredients, and the tools. And how I can’t.
Since my love has grown for you, you became me too. In my mind. That’s what you did to me.
There will be no winter with no blossoms to bury in snow.
No darkness with no lights to dim.
No flame without no body to burn.
How I have become scared of the sunshine to touch my scarred skin. So scared to leave you, I even packed you and dragged you in my summer. Oh winter, you look like me when you smile.
Dear winter, I love you. But it’s time for me to go. You destroyed, and you’re destroying. And I can’t keep carrying your clouds on my weak shoulders. I must leave.
Like autumn leaves leave. For the branches to grow new roses, later.
Oh winter, I love you. And I hope that we meet soon again.
Know that I want the best for you, too.
Meet me when the time is right, when your cold has been tamed,
and your snow is melt to water.
I hope that one day I’ll be able to swim in the coat you are choking me with.
In your water,
just like my name.
Oh winter, I can’t wait for you to turn to summer.