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And everything is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Everything.

Wrong.

It is winter

It is grey and cold and horrible

And it will be for months.

I am out of sorts.

All kinds of sorts.

And it's that feeling of being dragged under by a riptide.

One minute, you are fine.

The next you are struggling for your life,

Grasping desperately for that light you can see swimming above your head.

But that's just it,

You're in over your head.

And then, if it gets too bad.

You get that numb-calm feeling,

And I'm waiting for that.

Because I'm still floundering around like an idiot,

Trying to make sure the surf doesn't swallow me whole.

I'm not sure what it is,

Can't put my finger on it.

Not on one thing,

Just a tiny little bundle, plethora type thing

Of these completely unnerving thoughts.

And it is so horrible outside.

It is so horrible inside.

It is so horrible wherever I go,

And it's all my own fault,

And if I could simply stop letting myself drown and letting these little things get to me,

I would be fine.

I would be lovely.

But no, no.

It is grey,

Inside and out.

It is cold,

Inside and out.

It is dark,

Inside and out.

And I am fumbling about the the light switch that will illuminate this thick, dark grey,

And let the spring light I am already craving, flood in, and warm my fingers and toes.

Chase away this biting cold that is eating me alive.

And sometime,

I will wash up on shore,

And I'll find that light switch,

And I'll be exhausted and fed up,

But I'll be ok.

Enough repetition and beating around the bush.

Let me get down to it.

-AP US will kill me (is killing me...)

-Winter is killing me.

-I am afraid, of future, past, and present.

-I can't look at you, think about you, without wanting to just let myself drown.

Let me elaborate on the latter, as it is tearing me apart, limb, by limb, by limb.

I've known him for what has been a while.

I have liked him for most of that.

And now I am coming to some sort of junction,

Some sort of horrible realization,

One that I desperately wanted for earlier.

I am realizing how this will never work.

Never can.

Never will.

I am realizing just how immeasurably stupid I was to ever think it could work in any way, shape, or form.

And yet I am not at all over you.

And I saw you today,

And somehow, you looked more adorable than usual,

And it made this little chink in my armor

Grow to an undeniable crack.

I blush when I talk about you now.

This didn't happen before.

What gives.

What the hell.

I know I can't like you.

I continue to do so.

And I continue to pretend.

And it is the worst possible thing I can do to myself.

I feel the exact same way I did after watching "Where the Wild Things Are"

Bittersweet, on the verge of tears, confused, and afraid.

It's the exact same feeling.

And I hate it so much.

I hate too much.

Don't love enough.

It's hard to love more when that person you want to love,

Is so unreachable.

As soon as it wanes, it starts up again.

It's all I can do to distance myself,

And hope you don't notice when my gaze fixes on you.

I hope you don't notice.

I hope you don't care.

And I hope most dearly that someday I can let this all go,

Leave it to the winds, let them carry it far, far away.