The Winter In The Northwest.

The winter in the northwest does a lot of wild things to you. It makes you question constantly who you are and what you want. It makes you want to burn down all you have to start over new, somewhere, anywhere… Anywhere but here.

Your depression reckons you back to your old, dead self. It reminds you of when you used to run and how glorious it was. How it saved you from all you were by building you back from the ashes each and every time.

Often forgetting how that time you ran also made you have to start over every single time you came back home.

The winter has a certain charm to its darkness. A familiarity in its grip. Where you’re numb enough to let life melt away right in front of you. Always with a promise that tomorrow might somehow be better.

There’s something about its perilous eternal gray days. Something in its grip that keeps you forgetting you can leave at any time.

By the time you realize you’re free, you’re often far too gone to be able to actually move. By the time you remember you’re free, you forget why you’d ever dare to leave in the first place.