A Season by any other Name Wouldn't Smell as Sweet

You’ve kept the blinds over your window closed along with the ones over your eyes. More often than not, when you wake up you don’t bother checking the time unless you have to go somewhere where your presence will be accounted for in your absence will be met with repercussions. You put one foot on the side of your bed and it finds something that crutches and sticks to the bottom of it. A grimace finds your face. Today’s one of those days. All of November, December, all of January, February, and so far most of March (climate change right? You aren’t exactly sure) has been one of those days. 

There is a tiredness that does not leave. It just evolves and places itself here and there. You’ve looked up all of the symptoms and reasons for the pain. 

Front of the head and face: 

“Just hay fever” 

Back of your head:

“Arthritis”

You know what you really need is water. Your stomach grumbles (maybe some food would help too), and a sharp pain is just above your eyebrow. 

You need to check your emails, your messages, your voicemails…

Just because you’re taking a break from the world does not mean the world is taking a break from you. Just because you're going through something doesn’t mean no one else is. Your friend could have been asking you to drive them to the hospital. Your mother may be worried about you. She knows of this other side of you. She has seen it develop and take over, but you are grown now. You have a say in what type of care you receive or do not receive. No one really pushed you till now to look into it, but you feel like it is a bit too late, and not too big of a concern. It happens. Yearly. No need to get all wrapped up in it when you know you will get out. Only, sometimes you are not sure you ever will. 

“Winter Blues” “Seasonal Depression” 

When the sludge on the ground makes its way into your boots, freezing your toes, and your heart. Everything is annoying you immeasurably. It’s too cold to do anything. You’re sneezing, coughing, everyone else looks like they are near death. Disgusting. 

“Christmas Christmas time is ne—” 

“Hurry up and past!” You say these words internally, and walk quickly away from the storefronts. 

“I love you” 

“I love you” 

“I hate you both” You turn off the Christmas movie you have watched at least a billion times since you were a kid. Now, they are too…corny, too…unrealistic. Too joyful. You don’t see yourself in them. When did you start trying to replace the characters? Must have been during puberty or something. But, you wish you could go back. Maybe singing chipmunks would be better. 

You don’t have a lover, but when you did, you felt a little less of the bah-hum-BUG. It didn’t bite you till mid January when you were like, “alright, we celebrated everything. Let’s wrap this thing up.”

Your body had met the ice while you were running late (or carefully walking to not upset it) ENOUGH TIMES. 

This year though, you’ve been itching that bite since November. Nothing good even came from that month anyway. And what’s with December? Lights, and fake magicalness created for companies to take more money from everyone’s pockets. The overwhelming feelings. The realization that you do not make enough money for your grandparents to get a gift, and those shoes you bought for someone else…well, guess you won’t be getting any new ones for a year to make up for it. 

Yeah, you’ve been pretty quiet these days. All work, no play. Sticking to yourself. Fake smiles when needed. 

Apology tours are on your to do list, along with “Buy water.” 

Someone cares about you. There’s an attempt to keep it at the forefront of your mind, no matter how loud everything else gets. 

But they wouldn’t like you if they saw the papers haphazardly on the floor. Your clothes have stains on them. You don’t bother sniffing to find a semi clean shirt. You just stay in the one on your back. 

Morning, night, morning, night breath 

Teeth that feel layered

Stale shirt

Stale air 

Stale hair

But when you inhale, the room seems too stuffy. You need the air today. Today, you need a breath. 

A phone dings. Ugh not another “Where are you” message. No more. No more please. You are here, where you are sure to stay forevermore. 

You force yourself to check it to see:

Post: First Day of…

The rest of the sentence is cut off. 

First day of? 

You lift your foot and cautiously put it down, making your way to the window. 

When you open it, you keep the blinds closed (because what is the point in having so much light in the room). 

A different smell appears. Almost light, less frosty. The soil has changed while you stayed inside. There’s a less confined feeling in the room. Like, the bedroom door just might open if you pull on it. 

Someone’s laughing. It is high pitched and full of happiness. 

Must be a child’s laugh. Worryless and sure of the joy in the world. 

Some days, that laugh makes you flinch and make a face much like that child makes when they have to eat their vegetables. 

But today, today you let it fill you up. 

The window opens. There is a light that streams across the spots of bare floorboards. 

A smile emerges on your face.These clothes don’t feel right on your body anymore. Your teeth deserve better. And your throat is too dry. 

You grab your phone again. Ready to at least read one message; cross off one person on the list. 

But, you click on the blog post instead. There's a need to read the the rest of the title.

First Day of…

“Spring” You say this with a laugh. All high pitched and sure of joy in the world.