Imagine this: You find yourself awake on a cold, winter morn and decide to busy yourself by going on a walk instead of simply lying in bed for the rest of the morning. You step out of the warmth and familiarity of your home into the frigid street- barefooted, barely clothed with your hair carelessly cascading down your back in the tangled mess that it is. Your lips are pale and dry, your face is entirely make-up free and your shorts barely cover your thighs while the strap of your spaghetti top keeps falling off your shoulder with each step that you take.
The pavement feels chilly against your feet as your cheeks flush, your body trying to keep itself warm as you shiver. Goosebumps make an appearance all over your arms and your unshaved legs, while your teeth chatter lightly.
You’re roaming the streets, all alone. The icy air pricks your body like a thousand needles all at once. It’s like lying down on freshly cut grass right after it’s been watered.
At first, you try to warm yourself. You rub your palms together vigorously as if trying to light a fire warm enough to save you from this frigid weather. You run your hands along the skin of your arms to create some friction. All your survival instincts kick in as you realize that this isn’t what you need.
But the road is long, and never-ending. You turn back, but see only a thick veil of fog for as far as your vision permits.
You’ve walked a long way, and now doubt you’ll be able to find your way home.
So what do you do? You keep walking.
Your feet start to feel a little numb from the cold. Are you even sure you can continue walking for much longer without stumbling and tripping over the ground?
No. You are not certain of anything at this point.
There is no way back, and there is no way out.
And so, you start to embrace the cold.
You figure- I can’t control the weather, but I can control how I react to it.
You try to stop your body from shivering and shaking. You place your foot firmly upon the ground come the next step.
You let your guard down.
You let the cold eat you up.
The cold is the thick mist that has swallowed you.
And instead of struggling to get out of it, you are going to allow it to annihilate you.
The cold has no way back, no way out.
You start to lose all feeling in your limbs, but you keep walking till you can’t feel anything at all.
And you aren’t sure of anything at all.
Until, finally, you miss a step, perhaps, and your entire body lurks forward in one quick movement as your face stridently comes in contact with the tarred road beneath you.
You hear a faint crack, and aren’t sure if that was your nose or your chin. It could even be your arm or your fingers.
But you just lay there, exposed, not able to feel a thing.
Not a thing but the cold, harsh wind.
And that is what it was like loving him.
Walking down a tedious, unremitting road laced with uncertainties of so much and yet so little, with nothing but his cold touch keeping me sane.
