Winter makes me feel so alone. This is wonderful.
I like aloneness. I like not feeling guilty about it. I like feeling cocooned inside, stuck under my apartment’s warm sheets with only books and Netflix and the infrequent text for company.
It’s exciting when the outside world feels so dangerous and I am safely sitting on an armchair, slipping my finger between the dusty blinds, peeking at the slippery chaos.
Winter is the time for projects and dreams and catching up with yourself. To Cabin Fever I am forever immune.
No FOMO, because everyone else is trapped inside too. I have an excuse for doing nothing at night and eating chips from the bag and writing writing writing instead of dancing dancing dancing.
I love spring, of course. But I will savor every winter moment of loving, lingering lonesome until the last snowflake has melted into the budding dirt.