The room is cold. Harsh. Unforgiving.
But it’s safe here.
It’s home here.
Everything freezes in here. Left to hang in the air like unsaid words and unresolved emotions. It’s much better in the long run.
It’s better than the fires outside that are licking the frame of the door, begging that I open up so that they can engulf me in their responsibility.
In their warmth. In their potential for great things spanning countries and changing lives around the globe.
Their fire for making everyone around happy and content that I’m not a popsicle like the rest of them, but the rest of them are here and I can tell they are cool.
But this is better. Much better than playing with a natural energy source and watching it consume me. Why would I risk being burnt alive? What’s the endgame there?
Success or cremation? And they think I would risk it all for that?
So yeah, this is fine.
This is fine.
I agree my fingers might be numbing off from inactivity and the general lack of engagement for it’s better this way.
It means I won’t be able to carry anything after a while.
It is very cold…