November isn't that bad.
I mean, yes. I have been constantly sick for over a week; weezing and coughing and snotty and stuffed-up and harking and clammy and cold-sweating and hot and coughing some more and throaty and bothered and generally ill. And yes, our weather has gone from bad to worse; from hilariously thick fog (so thick that it left a veil of white on my clothes, as I biked to school the other day, and simultaneously completely destroyed my mascara) to sub-ten degrees Celsius (which seems to remind me an awfully lot of the arctic, whilst freezing off my hands that are trying to cover all the little holes a scarf can't seem to plug). And yes, it's getting darker every day, somehow giving us the feeling that we are entering some period of everlasting doom and darkness. Hell, just today, I got out of school at 4pm today, and was welcomed by a twilight schoolyard; by the time I was home, it might as well have been night outside.
But still. In spite of all that. We make it through. Though it may seem ridiculous and cold and grey and dreary and meaningless and sniffly... It's all right. The oddly snuggly, red-cheeked, comforting feeling that comes with winter is gently seeping into my bones.
It's in the frost on my breath in the morning. It's in the fiery red of the leaves, which have fallen from their comforting place on the tree outside my window. It's in the smile a half-stranger sends me at 8am. It's in the way I feel the instant comfort of entering my new favorite bookshop-café ... ordering the now customary latte and even a piece of cake (if I can muster the self-esteem), joking with my friend and the owner of the shop, and talking about comic books and bandnames in the comfy sofa. It's in the way my Danish book on litterature sounds when I finally close it, after heaving my way through page after grueling page. It's in the constant roughness of my tongue, as I burn it every day on hot drinks chosen to warm my body. It's in the name of a friend popping up on my phone, when I'm tired and sick and just want to snuggle up with my comforter and a hot cocoa. It's in the way my new biker boots look on my feet. It's in the way I sit at my desk; legs crossed, desklamp pointed a little away from me, feet up on the radiator beside me, shoulders hunched and hair everywhere, scouting out my window into the blackness of the early night. It's in the taste of cold, hard, synthetic sour candy. It's in the ache in my shoulders from the strap of my beyond-heavy school bag. It's in the way my cheeks and nose and chin turn red from the cold. It's in the way I can wear three woollen sweaters at once, and still feel cold. It's the way I need a cup of hot coffee every day, if I want to keep myself alive; preferrably the horrible-tasting and synthetically sweet spewing liquid, which is produced in the school cantine. It's in the way I can fall into my bed at 9pm and never want to fall out again. It's in watching "The Holiday" for the first time in months, but for the 103948734th time in my life. It's in eating that extra little cookie, piece of cake, sweet, and feeling like I've comitted an undiscovered crime. And it's in the much needed hug of that particular friend at the end of the day, when I'm standing in the school yard with too little clothes on, and just need the warmth; both physically and emotionally.
It's in knowing that November has us by the balls, and won't loosen its oddly comforting grip for another month.
So... Here's some extra comfort, if your finding this cold month a little hard to snuggle up to.
Teitur All I Remember From Last Night Is You
S N U G G L E O N T H E C O U N T O F T H R E E . . .
O N E . . . T W O . . . T H R E E !
Thanks for listening,
I Am Roseberry.