Seasonal Affective (Dis)Order

The winter has left me on an island, marooned all by myself.

I'm rolling along the streets of the 'Heights and its lows. Nothing is 'normal' about it. Cold, bitter cold air tonight. Had to bust out some gloves to keep my hands from freezing. I'm watching clouds pass overhead from the recent storm; so much goddamn rain. It rained for days, nonstop sheets of liquid cold sheerness. I thought it would never end. Kept me inside and isolated, but aided me in fostering this image.

Adams Ave is dark and quiet once the bars let out. In the whir of cold wind I glance down an alleyway; a feral cat strolls on his hunt like a seasoned warrior. He's missing an eye. He has scars throughout his coarse fur and his ears are loaded with holes and nicks from last night's rumble. His survival has proven he's ready for anything the world might throw at him.

The passing street lamps sizzle and fade into discs resembling distant stars as I turn the corner to Park Boulevard. I feel the isolation. I feel the alcohol rolling off the ghosts of the sidewalks, sensing the pulse of the lifeless streets.

I'm falling so far inside myself that the feeling reflects; I turn into the most pathetic, lonely, miserable character the world has to offer...but only for a moment, only at this time of night, do I feel like a phantom.

Summer brings back thoughts of a girl and a house. If I could choose to construct an afterlife for myself I'd reach out and grab that moment from the year.

I leave this thought at the next stoplight, cars are coming...so I say, "Fuck it" out loud and pedal through the crosswalk, gliding to the sloped curb. I stand up on the bike, absorbing the shock in my knees I know the rims cannot bear.

She is a very fragile creature.