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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