Mid-winter, mid-semester

Today is one of those days. You know them, I’m sure. One of those days in which all the things that used to work clamour in your head to be tried out, “me! me! me!”, insisting on their past efficacy. One of those days in which you read your friends’ brilliant posts on standing strong, and rejoicing in winter attire, and the wafts of healthy comfort food, and think to yourself: that! But that requires action, and somehow the will has dissipated, failing to be revived even by the shining sun. One of those days in which theory, lists, possibilities, all remain abstract, even idealistic. Because life. Because mid-winter. Because mid-semester.

And you also know that these days have to be, needling at you, nagging ceaselessly to parade your failure to walk the talk. But you only feel frozen, incapable to act on the what you know with your brain, and your heart, and your muscles. Days like today require no advice, no lists, no self-improvement attempts. They want acknowledgement, acquiescence. These days have to be, because they’re part of being, of winter, of life. They need not be banished, but experienced. You breathe through them, you let them wash over you. You be.