This morning I sat in the car and watched snow collect against the spot where the window joins the door.
The crystals were exactly that--barbed, spiky, adamant. It was cold enough that they kept their individual shapes. It was like watching unforeseen alien rocks pile up. Cruel rocks for a planet even worse than ours.
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Okay.
I see snow as tiny spikes, I see female existence as unworkable, I remember my cat for his kills, and all I wanna know is where your crazy lives. On this almost-worst-of-all-possible worlds.
Would you believe I'm actually really quite cheerful? Louisa, tell them I'm really quite cheerful.
Of course that probably doesn't help. What's worse? Someone who reels with horror from the tiny spikes and the dark epiphanies, or someone who's actually kind of excited at figuring all that out because it explains so much? Someone who can enjoy a hot fudge sundae while staring at the skull.
The snow was beautiful. It really was. The tiny spikes, barbed like strange arrows, were beautiful.
