Winter again
(I wrote this yesterday when trying to process the horrors of international news and hints of winter depression nagging at me. I still aim not to post much this month of January (except, like, three two-third-written yuri reviews that I may get around to finishing), and I will notably postpone a list of things I liked in 2025 to later in the year - I'll write it eventually.
But I wanted to post this now. It felt like a good fit here. I hope it finds you.)
I didn't notice. I tried not to notice, I suppose - something easy when time already feels dislocated enough it took me most of it to realize we were in December.
But it's January now. And even as golden rays are hitting my window
it is winter again.
I will try not to let it get to me. This is why I'm writing, after all: to expel this fragment of depression I feel waking up again within me.
This is not a curse. I am not doomed to get through it again.
It's just that
it's just that it hurts so much
to live in such a horrible world
each headline a jumpscare more cruel than the last
and it hurts to not be near the ones I love
as I see the world end in slow motion
and it hurts to talk
and to do things
and to create
(it is always easy to feel inadequate in what I am doing compared to everyone else
compared to anyone else, really)
and of course it is always that exact fucking season when I am expected to apply to new positions
find a job
sell skills I only like when they're not on the line to ensure my survival
But I am gonna keep clinging
I am gonna keep clinging, I promise
to what I like to make
to the fictions I love
and to my stuffed fox dolls
and this will pass
(it always does)
this will pass
(it always does)
this
will
pass.
So I will bundle up in my blue plaid
and burrow deeper into my den
and find small joys to keep me warm
until I can weave bigger ones again
and I will let the winter pass.
It always does.