L'hiver

It is winter here. The snow falls like the footsteps of a Siberian tiger. It's been like this for as long as I can remember -- this coldness, this apathy that numbs me to the bone.

They say glass does funny things to people. It can be the aphrodisiac, the seductress in the mirror luring you with your own reflection. Or it can be the weapon, slashing your skin into ribbons of flesh.

There was a shard of glass in his eye. I don't know when it happened; by the time I realized what had happened, he was already lost from me. What he had once murmured as beautiful -- my hair, my eyes, my lips, my nose, my face, my skin, my bones -- decayed in his eyes overnight. They say the only cure is for his own tears to wash the glass away, but by then the tears had crystallized in a coat of frost.

It was winter then. The snow fell like his footsteps, softly disappearing from my sight.

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Update on my life: I am currently doing summer school for six weeks, living off-campus in an upstairs room of an old North Carolina house with the girl I met when I first visited Duke who is now a good friend of mine. Too often I feel as if she is my mother, driving me to class, cooking for me because I never learned, vacuuming the carpet while I jump from chair to chair watching her like a cat. I like it so far. I'm learning two kinds of chemistry -- Organic Chemistry II and the chemistry of cooking, having watched my roommate cook each and every meal.

I've been looking at my old writing from early high school, and I think my Francesca-Lia-Block-esque style has gotten rusty. Will hopefully be blogging more in that style soon.