I want to sit in bed and cry. When this time of the year comes I shrivel into my mind, shutting everyone else out and embracing only myself. When I start to taste summer I always switch back, I try so hard not to be isolated and for a month or two I believe the beautiful lie that I'm not. Everyone's lonely. It's an inescapable part of being human. But as the sky gives up earlier and earlier each day, I tend to follow, shutting out the world and crawling into bed and warming myself up from the outside in in hopes that maybe the numbness will melt away. I suppose at this time I put on dreary goggles that make me see the sadness in everything and everyone, and I can't get them off until February or April. Or maybe that's when I put them on, goggles that blur the pain and focus in on the sunny glow of faces. I can't say which. Am I a happy person or a sad person and to my dismay the answer is boring and bleak and beautiful: I am simply a person. And sometimes in my extreme moments I suppose I forget that.