A WINTER'S MUSINGS
rating: PG
genre: angst
pairing: none
summary: Winter snow brings reflective musings from one particular rabbit.
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Cold.
Frozen water falls from the sky.
Snow.
A streak of movement.
I turn to look and the movement stills, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the rabbit staring back at me with frozen attention in those large dark eyes before it's off and streaking once more, far away from me.
There were two and now there is only one.
One rabbit left alone in the snow.
I hope that one has somewhere to go because, from the barrenness around me, I doubt there's much to forage for here. And for a rabbit to be without a warm place to call home is very, very sad.
I look up.
A gray carpet stretches on endlessly overhead.
Scraggly bare branches beseech upwards, skeletal things that seem to be clawing at that gloomy blanket up above as if trying to rip it away and let the warmth of the sun fall to the earth. But, of course, it's a never ending cycle that won't succeed for no matter how hard the branches try, they will never piece through that thick layer of cloudy darkness that keeps the sun away.
The wind whistles.
Feathery plumes formed with every breath I take undulate in the air, rising higher and higher before they're lost from sight, dissipated.
Chilly winds streak across my cheeks.
So very cold.
Still I stand, bearing the punishing elements of winter that blow against me and even the tree I lean against offers little in the way of shelter, stripped bare of foliage as it is. I could move somewhere else, but that wouldn't do much either for all the other trees in the forest have the same fate, to be stripped of their leafy protection as cold slows the movement of sap within those wooden trunks, slowing their life.
Everything is just so bare.
Snow blankets everything, covering all in pristine and untouched whiteness so smooth that it appears inviting, begging for touch.
But it's a lie.
To touch is to be met with a cold wetness that drives warmth away, the reality hardly inviting at all. I know this so I refuse to touch, retaining what little warmth I have, curling mitten covered hands within the deep pockets of my coat as I stand and look out at the white winter that surrounds me with its pale cold beauty.
There's nothing in my view but snow and bare trees.
It's so very lonely.
But I stand and bear it for loneliness is not new to me. Always, always it's haunted my life. Just when I think I might have overcome it, one day it comes back, like the cold winters that always come no matter how hot a summer was had.
I shiver and think that this is the coldest winter ever.
But I know, it's probably not.
Being alone always makes my thoughts bleaker. I wish it didn't for I don't like to be this way, to carry something so dark within me, but it's not something that I see being fixed anytime soon. I'll just have to deal with it and hope that there will be a day that it can be fixed - a day when I can be fixed.
Feeling broken is a painful experience.
And sometimes I feel selfish because there are moments when I believe I cling to it too much, as if wallowing in it for some strange reason that I can't name. During such moments, I think I shouldn't keep these emotions so close to myself because I know, deep down, that I'm not the only one who has them.
But they don't say anything to me.
Maybe I'm not the only selfish one.
It's cold comfort and such comfort, if it can be called that, is no comfort at all.
No.
No comfort at all.
Cold winds blow and still I stand. But fighting off the chills is impossible as the punishing freezing winds continue to blow against me, driving tiny pellets of snow against me, coating me with a wintriness that makes me colder than I already am.
And still I stand. I stand and will continue to stand.
Why?
Why do I stand in the cold?
It's because I have nowhere else to go.
And here is a place I'd rather be than the place that I'm supposed to call home. Sometimes it does feel like home but only half of one. How could it not? I don't think that a home can truly feel like what it's supposed to be when half of what should be my family doesn't even remember who I really am.
It's okay. It's enough as long as I can still see them.
That's what I tell myself.
There are times when I even believe it.
This isn't one of them.
With winter's killing frost all around me, life-giving plants made bare, colorless whiteness enveloping everything as far as the eye can see, it's hard to believe much of anything. The bleakness of winter is catching and even I'm not immune to this particular sickness.
Yes, I'm sick.
One hand reaches to touch the spot above my heart and I can feel an ache, an emptiness that lies below.
I don't feel very well.
I really don't like feeling this way. I want to get better, to fill that emptiness yawning within me, to be whole. It's selfish, I know, but it's okay to be selfish sometimes, isn't it?
Isn't it?
I can't see how wanting to be loved is bad. To have loneliness chased away, to be cared about, to happy and, if possible, to be able to make someone else happy and smile as well – how can that be bad?
In the bleakness of a frozen winter, I want to be loved.
But I want to give love as well, to have it received by the one who loves me, knows me, and likes me for who I am.
Is that so much to ask?
It seems so as the prolonged exposure to cold drags my thoughts down as, I'm sure, it would do to anyone who was faced with the same freezing circumstances. It's all I can do to remain standing as upright as I can, facing off against the elements as winds continue to blow, snow continues to fall, and I continue to shiver against the chill that seems to have no end in the silence of the barren woods.
"Momiji-kun!"
I turn and stare, watching as the warmly bundled figure comes closer, moving as rapidly as the snow covered ground allows, wispy plumes winding through the air with each huff of panting breath. The sparkling bright- eyed face returning my gaze is red and must be as cold as my own and yet those features are still happily smiling as if unaffected by the biting bitterness of the cold that pelts at us both.
And, gazing at those brightly shining features, I can't prevent the smile breaking across my own face as my gloomy thoughts are chased away, dissipating like the feathery plumes of our breaths in the air.
I'm no longer alone.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologizes breathlessly. "I didn't think I'd take so long."
"That's okay," I say cheerfully as I take her hand, pleased that she lets me as she always does. "I'm just happy you finally showed up."
"Well, of course I did. I promised, didn't I?"
"You sure did." I cast her a sidelong glance as we begin to walk. "Now, what should we do on Momiji-and-Tohru's-fun-snowy-winter-date?"
She laughs at the name I gave it. "I don't know. Where do you want to go?"
"Someplace warm," I say, smiling at her.
"Then how about some hot chocolate? I heard about a new café that's supposed to have some delicious hot chocolate."
"A warm building and hot drinks – sounds great!" I exclaim excitedly. "It'll be a wonderful chance to get warm again."
She casts me a searching glance. "Were you waiting long?"
Seeing the concern and caring in her wide eyes as she gazes at me, trying to estimate just how much effect the cold wintry weather has had on me, the bleakness around me doesn't seem as important anymore, not when I have the comforting weight of her hand in my own. I no longer feel quite so broken anymore and I'm thankful she's in my life, filling it with her warmth. And I hope that one day I'll be able to express to her just how it is I feel about her and all she's done for me, for I doubt she realizes how she's touched my life. But, for now, I simply shake my head as we walk on through the winter snow, journeying towards the warm place that awaits us.
"No," I tell her, smiling. "Not long at all."
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owari
rating: PG
genre: angst
pairing: none
summary: Winter snow brings reflective musings from one particular rabbit.
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-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Cold.
Frozen water falls from the sky.
Snow.
A streak of movement.
I turn to look and the movement stills, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the rabbit staring back at me with frozen attention in those large dark eyes before it's off and streaking once more, far away from me.
There were two and now there is only one.
One rabbit left alone in the snow.
I hope that one has somewhere to go because, from the barrenness around me, I doubt there's much to forage for here. And for a rabbit to be without a warm place to call home is very, very sad.
I look up.
A gray carpet stretches on endlessly overhead.
Scraggly bare branches beseech upwards, skeletal things that seem to be clawing at that gloomy blanket up above as if trying to rip it away and let the warmth of the sun fall to the earth. But, of course, it's a never ending cycle that won't succeed for no matter how hard the branches try, they will never piece through that thick layer of cloudy darkness that keeps the sun away.
The wind whistles.
Feathery plumes formed with every breath I take undulate in the air, rising higher and higher before they're lost from sight, dissipated.
Chilly winds streak across my cheeks.
So very cold.
Still I stand, bearing the punishing elements of winter that blow against me and even the tree I lean against offers little in the way of shelter, stripped bare of foliage as it is. I could move somewhere else, but that wouldn't do much either for all the other trees in the forest have the same fate, to be stripped of their leafy protection as cold slows the movement of sap within those wooden trunks, slowing their life.
Everything is just so bare.
Snow blankets everything, covering all in pristine and untouched whiteness so smooth that it appears inviting, begging for touch.
But it's a lie.
To touch is to be met with a cold wetness that drives warmth away, the reality hardly inviting at all. I know this so I refuse to touch, retaining what little warmth I have, curling mitten covered hands within the deep pockets of my coat as I stand and look out at the white winter that surrounds me with its pale cold beauty.
There's nothing in my view but snow and bare trees.
It's so very lonely.
But I stand and bear it for loneliness is not new to me. Always, always it's haunted my life. Just when I think I might have overcome it, one day it comes back, like the cold winters that always come no matter how hot a summer was had.
I shiver and think that this is the coldest winter ever.
But I know, it's probably not.
Being alone always makes my thoughts bleaker. I wish it didn't for I don't like to be this way, to carry something so dark within me, but it's not something that I see being fixed anytime soon. I'll just have to deal with it and hope that there will be a day that it can be fixed - a day when I can be fixed.
Feeling broken is a painful experience.
And sometimes I feel selfish because there are moments when I believe I cling to it too much, as if wallowing in it for some strange reason that I can't name. During such moments, I think I shouldn't keep these emotions so close to myself because I know, deep down, that I'm not the only one who has them.
But they don't say anything to me.
Maybe I'm not the only selfish one.
It's cold comfort and such comfort, if it can be called that, is no comfort at all.
No.
No comfort at all.
Cold winds blow and still I stand. But fighting off the chills is impossible as the punishing freezing winds continue to blow against me, driving tiny pellets of snow against me, coating me with a wintriness that makes me colder than I already am.
And still I stand. I stand and will continue to stand.
Why?
Why do I stand in the cold?
It's because I have nowhere else to go.
And here is a place I'd rather be than the place that I'm supposed to call home. Sometimes it does feel like home but only half of one. How could it not? I don't think that a home can truly feel like what it's supposed to be when half of what should be my family doesn't even remember who I really am.
It's okay. It's enough as long as I can still see them.
That's what I tell myself.
There are times when I even believe it.
This isn't one of them.
With winter's killing frost all around me, life-giving plants made bare, colorless whiteness enveloping everything as far as the eye can see, it's hard to believe much of anything. The bleakness of winter is catching and even I'm not immune to this particular sickness.
Yes, I'm sick.
One hand reaches to touch the spot above my heart and I can feel an ache, an emptiness that lies below.
I don't feel very well.
I really don't like feeling this way. I want to get better, to fill that emptiness yawning within me, to be whole. It's selfish, I know, but it's okay to be selfish sometimes, isn't it?
Isn't it?
I can't see how wanting to be loved is bad. To have loneliness chased away, to be cared about, to happy and, if possible, to be able to make someone else happy and smile as well – how can that be bad?
In the bleakness of a frozen winter, I want to be loved.
But I want to give love as well, to have it received by the one who loves me, knows me, and likes me for who I am.
Is that so much to ask?
It seems so as the prolonged exposure to cold drags my thoughts down as, I'm sure, it would do to anyone who was faced with the same freezing circumstances. It's all I can do to remain standing as upright as I can, facing off against the elements as winds continue to blow, snow continues to fall, and I continue to shiver against the chill that seems to have no end in the silence of the barren woods.
"Momiji-kun!"
I turn and stare, watching as the warmly bundled figure comes closer, moving as rapidly as the snow covered ground allows, wispy plumes winding through the air with each huff of panting breath. The sparkling bright- eyed face returning my gaze is red and must be as cold as my own and yet those features are still happily smiling as if unaffected by the biting bitterness of the cold that pelts at us both.
And, gazing at those brightly shining features, I can't prevent the smile breaking across my own face as my gloomy thoughts are chased away, dissipating like the feathery plumes of our breaths in the air.
I'm no longer alone.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologizes breathlessly. "I didn't think I'd take so long."
"That's okay," I say cheerfully as I take her hand, pleased that she lets me as she always does. "I'm just happy you finally showed up."
"Well, of course I did. I promised, didn't I?"
"You sure did." I cast her a sidelong glance as we begin to walk. "Now, what should we do on Momiji-and-Tohru's-fun-snowy-winter-date?"
She laughs at the name I gave it. "I don't know. Where do you want to go?"
"Someplace warm," I say, smiling at her.
"Then how about some hot chocolate? I heard about a new café that's supposed to have some delicious hot chocolate."
"A warm building and hot drinks – sounds great!" I exclaim excitedly. "It'll be a wonderful chance to get warm again."
She casts me a searching glance. "Were you waiting long?"
Seeing the concern and caring in her wide eyes as she gazes at me, trying to estimate just how much effect the cold wintry weather has had on me, the bleakness around me doesn't seem as important anymore, not when I have the comforting weight of her hand in my own. I no longer feel quite so broken anymore and I'm thankful she's in my life, filling it with her warmth. And I hope that one day I'll be able to express to her just how it is I feel about her and all she's done for me, for I doubt she realizes how she's touched my life. But, for now, I simply shake my head as we walk on through the winter snow, journeying towards the warm place that awaits us.
"No," I tell her, smiling. "Not long at all."
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owari