Letters to Winter| Three

I am dreaming of the coast at winter, cold harsh and salty. The sea in winter is to me the power of nature.

Dear Winter,

You let December creep up so silently, quickly, I an unsure as to where I should my place my thoughts anymore. Being in between places is strange, halfway to insanity and halfway to success, every decision in the next three weeks will decide which half will take all of me. And lately I have been wondering if the escape I found in my new city and home that I love so dearly is worth it. Because on paper it seemed to like the perfect plan but things are never quite a simple as they appear to be, and hardly ever is reality the dream you imagined for weeks on end.

It isn't about how many time you fall apart but how many you put yourself back together.

Or at least that is what they say.

Winter you get to me physically as well as mentally I guess they agree in that way at least. My hands and feet are rarely warm, and almost every slight bit of exposed skin loses all feeling. Kinda like the way I stop feeling deeply during the grey months despite my love of that haunting colour between the sea and the sky.  And yet you bring a cosy and loved up atmosphere rarely paralleled by other seasons to our small lives.

I honestly believe that your intentions are good but I wish it was easier than you make it seem.

XO, Miriam

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