Nothing Breathes Here in The Cold

nothing moves or even smiles.

I don't know why I feel so cold. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. It's not a physical cold exactly, but nearly so. I was going to say, "it's not a body cold", but that's not true. It is a body cold, it just comes from somewhere deep down that I can't locate.

Maybe it's just that I'm tired, I don't know, but maybe I'm lonely. Maybe it's winter and I'm lonely too; lonely enough to look hopefully at each and every pretty girl when I go out; enough to stay up all night on the couch holding hands with women twelve years younger than me, listening to sad songs like I was in college again. This doesn't upset me so much, I've been lonely before-- I can do lonely. I can forgive myself for being hopeful, even when that hope sends me to all the wrong places. A little hand holding with twenty-year-olds isn't yet so terrible at my age. I can handle all this, I can last through the winter, but like I said, it's not a physical cold exactly. What if the winter passes and it is still there, worming into my veins; nipping at my bones? What if I don't know how to get warm again?