(source)I don't wanna go all Game of Thrones-y on you, but I think the Winter is hard on us all.
I used to always think I was a born-and-bred Winter baby, getting twinkly-eyed at the first twinge of a chill in the air and seeing knitwear slowly begin to weave its way into the shop rails. But I think I've now come to realize that I actually just quite like Christmas, Snow, fairy lights, festive films and big coats, and winter, just generally, sucks.
And it's always this time of year which is the hardest.
Come March, it's as though winter is still desperately clinging on, refusing to relinquish its hold without even offering us the compensation of some pretty snow for our troubles, and we shake our fists to the heavens dreaming of floral crowns, evening garden parties and music festivals.
My past week or so has illustrated the precise picture of this, with the days trudging past in a seemingly mindless work-sleep-class-sleep cycle into oblivion.
And in the usual correlation (of which I'm not entirely certain which causes which) the sky has been the perfect mirror, with day after day of clouds, intermittent rain and just general dullness.
But,
not today.
Today began like any other day - I woke up bleary eyed, the mountain of scattered Uni work that I share a bed with nightly coming into focus, as my mind trailed off recalling and reciting the troublesome dreams of which I'd just come from.
I rolled out of bed, got some breakfast and sat down to check my networks.
For a couple of hours this was all I did, the same sighing about my Uni work, the same endless scrolling on Twitter, the same refreshing of my emails.
But today was not like the other days, the identical monotony which had been slipping past for weeks.
Because today had a presence.
Today, the day was a thing, and that thing was beautiful.
And I stopped what I was doing, and I realised.
I was... warm.
The way my room is designed, the far wall (the wall which I look at from the end of my bed) is entirely covered by a large French window, which overlooks the University campus from a fourth floor perspective.
Usually I kind of resent the window, as the door doesn't quite seal properly and there is always a faint chilly breeze about my room.
But today, I was warm.
I got out of my paperwork-come-sleeping-place nest, and walked to the window.
The day truly was full - radiant blue sky, not a cloud in sight, birds signing musically from the pink-dotted trees below me... and for the first time in months and months, not only on my skin and on my face, but in my heart, I felt warm.
And for the first time since September last year, in a sweeping gesture, I threw open the french doors, invited the outside in and closed my eyes as I felt the sunshine and the fragrant breeze kiss my cheeks.
And just like that, everything else suddenly seemed completely irrelevant.
All of the things which had been recycling endlessly in my mind, all the stale bothers and cobwebs that had been niggling away and slowly sinking me lower, were suddenly swept up and washed away by this all-encompassing golden beam of warmth and light.
I inhaled deeply, concentrating on every little sense- the smell of the blossom from the little pink flowers below, the feel of the warm metal railing beneath my hand, the sound of the birds and distant laughter, the faint hairs wafting lazily in the breeze and tickling the back of my neck... and I felt... free.
Free from having to worry. Free from the clinging winter and the equally clinging sadness. Free from the eroding strains that my mind inflicts upon itself from ceaseless, goddamn, worrying.
And most of all, I could finally feel how tantalisingly close the summer was, and how I only needed to get through a few months more before it could be mine.
I began to daydream, recalling last summer and imaging the future one simultaneously; rolling breathlessly in the long grass by the ruins of the castle, picnicking in Regents Park with the elegant and mischievous alike, strolling arm in arm with Florentine and Ariella through the city in the sunshine, dreaming of where we could live, renting bikes and cycling to cute little unknown villages, camping out under the stars , back at Glastonbury Festival with my best friend in the whole world, sitting on the shoulders of a stranger screaming along to my favorite bands, skinny-dipping in open lakes, getting lost in the forest, building campfires, having barbecue's with my family, and most of all, I saw myself without a worry in the world.
No deadlines, no dramas, no strenuous commitments, no problems.
I saw myself happy.
I opened my eyes again with a smile, knowing that this was all yet to come, and suddenly remembered a quote from one of my favorite books. A quote which I'd always seen as quite depressing, but at that moment, right then, like many things, I saw in a new light.
“There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.”
— John Green, The Fault In Our Stars
It's amazing what just a little bit of sunshine can do.
