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©2017 by GWEILO. Proudly created by Zoé Manset, Edouard Chardot, Céleste Judet, Logan de Raspide Ross, Sidney Jones.

Snow

May 31, 2018

The soft snow at my feet was calling my name. I could hear it murmur in my ear, kindly ordering me to come closer. My legs, covered in bruises, fell to the ground, as if controlled by the mountain. I found myself laying on the chilly snow. I felt it melting into fresh water under the heat of my naked

body. It felt good. I didn’t mind the freezing air. I wanted to become one with my surroundings, become one with the snow.

 

My right hand rose in a distinguished manner to my mouth. I was holding a white stick in between my index and my middle finger. I took a gentle puff of what I call a cigarette and at the same time, my eyes looked up to find stars. There were a lot, too many to count. In a smooth exhalation, I saw fog coming out of my mouth. Was it the smoke of my cigarette or the contrast of my breath with the air? I don’t remember. I slowly consumed it, as if consuming the pain that still controls me. I just wanted to forget it all for a while. The cigarette was finished.

 

I met a boy today. He was quite nice, I think. He had brown hair, not combed, and deep brown eyes, looking at mine in a particular way. He was handsome, my type. I remember his hands. He was fast, swift, magical in his own way. I let myself fall in his laugh, in his arms. I just saw him a day, but he became the center of my attention for a while. But in what cause? Maybe I wanted to forget my past.

I needed these moments of attention. I needed to feel good about myself. Maybe I changed him, but probably not. He met someone different. Me. I think. I’ll see him in a couple of months, but who knows if I was just dreaming.

 

Oh! I also met another one, but it was different. A cute waiter. We laughed a bit. Had serious talks. He seemed nice. He was cool for his age. I didn’t feel young next to him. He acted as if I was an adult and not a naïve little girl. It felt good. He was more like a friend. I know a lot about him now. He has a child. She’s eight.

 

My hands dug in the snow, as if trying to disappear. I didn’t want to leave, I still don’t. My skin became one with the snow. The freezing air stung my lungs. It was like a knife cutting me open, making it hard to breath.

It’s magical up here. The snow was shining, reflecting the light of the round perfect moon. I love it all: the air, the trees, the view, but mostly the snow. The pure snow. I want to be pure. It’s complicated.

 

I remember the stars disappearing. Little particles of snow started to fall on my face. It was a strange feeling. My skin was burning, but it was more of an icy burn. The snow was devouring me. My body was trembling. I felt high, probably because of the cold.

Where was the moon? Nowhere to be found…

 

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