heavy.

Remember when I said I loved snow? I loved the pretty falling flakes, sticking to my coat and windows? Remember when I wanted a snowday?**

Snow like this is heavy. It falls quickly, and it sticks. To itself. Pounds of heavy, wet snow lay around my car and house today. My muscles are sore from shoveling three times, throwing the snow on itself, wishing for more inches-- of room, not of accumulation. There is no where to put the feet of snow. My roommate looked on as a movie played from our living room.

I was angry when I had to shovel for the third time, alone, after the plow had shoved the snow into a barrier...for the third time. I was sweating and cursing the people with whom I share a house, as they slept in, watched television, and slowly cooked breakfast.

I was angry at my head, which was spinning, and my throat, which was aching to drink something cold. I was angry at my arms, for being small and weak under the pressure of weight. I was angry at my height; it's difficult to shovel this kind of snow, let alone make multiple piles taller than yourself. I was angry at the town, for fining residents for not clearing walkways. Lots of joggers this time of year, you see.
I was angry. The snow was heavy. I was tired.

I started crying, alone on my quiet snowglobe street, crying and sniffing to the rhythm of the shovel carrying the weather away. My mind got away from me; this is becoming a habit I cannot hold on to long enough to break.
I just want to sink into this snow and go to sleep. I want it form around my body and cradle me into peaceful rest. I want to wake up ten years ago. I want the magic of jumping in gigantic piles, tunneling them into forts. I want a snowsuit and nothing but promises of fun when my school flashes on the bottom of the screen.
But you can't, Alivia. You are not a child. You are an adult and this is what taking care of yourself feels like. Heavy. If they look out their windows, people are going to think you're losing it... Are you losing it, Alivia? You can't handle shoveling snow? You can't handle sleeping by yourself in this apartment? You can't handle being away from Michael? You can't handle being independent? You can't handle it? You can't, and you can't go back in time.


I stopped crying. I kept shoveling. I thought I had stopped breathing. My mind didn't stop.
You like being an adult, you like working and paying your own rent and buying your own groceries...even if you don't eat. You like this. You like having a car and responsibility, even though you are anxious about your job every day. You like taking care of other people, even if you're worried about who will take care of you. Shovel the snow and go inside.

And now I'm here.



**I deleted that post, for those wondering. It didn't fit what I was feeling and every time I saw it, I was sadly disappointed.