og så en liten fic jeg skrev for en god stund siden, et annet resultat av kjedsomhet
Freezing
It's cold.
It's raining. I stand there, trying not to move, trying not to think. Trying not to remember.
Impossible. It's always impossible. One you've decided not to do anything, it's impossible to remain still. The world is made up of motion, and once you try to break out, it starts hitting you with full force, not wanting to let go of you. Like now. The wind is steadily growing stronger, and standing still will soon become an impossible feat. Already my hair is sticking out in every directions, waving, synchronized with the wind.
It's cold.
The wind is rapidly blowing. Desperately, its cruelly gentle hands is clawing at my still form, trying to convince me to move. To MAKE me move. Stubbornly I refuse, only making it angrier. It's still raining, and the heavy drops are hitting me like bullets. I stand still, trying not to think. Trying not to remember. Once I move, I'll start to think. Once I move, the memories will come back.
It's cold.
Even the hair on my head, and the clothes covering my stiff body are against me. The strands of my hair, gently stroking my cheeks, tickling. Wanting me to lift my hand. To brush those strands away. To move. But I won't. I won't move. They can't make me. I don't want to remember. The rain is pouring down my face. I'm vaguely aware of it, of the raindrops sliding down my cheeks. The fresh water from the heavens, mixing together with the salt tears of my heart.
It's cold.
Raining, raining, blowing, raining. I'm wet to the bone. Soaked with water. I envy it. Water have a way to escape the cruelty of the world. It turns completely cold. It stops moving. It freezes to ice. I stand still, not moving a muscle. Trying to completely freeze like the water. It's cold. I need it colder.
It's freezing.
When your body temperature drops, your body has two possible reactions. The first one is shivering, desperately trying to become warmer. Desperately clinging to life.
It's cold.
The other option, is blocking all the pain. Blocking out any feelings or sensations. Accepting your fate, silently bracing itself for what is unavoidably coming. Becoming numb. Welcoming the freezing death.
It's cold.
Colder, colder. I need it colder! Standing still. Become like water. Go numb.
Freeze.