Cold is important.
I only truly feel alive when it’s cold outside.
When it’s cold, I can bundle up. I can add layers to warm myself.
I can commiserate with others and hold them close.
When it’s hot and humid, I can only push others away.
I want to escape my skin.
The itching.
The sweating.
The chafing.
It makes me run from others, blind even to myself.
The cold gives me cause to pull material to me.
It gives me cause to make an effort to stay warm.
When it’s cold out, I can add layers.
There is always something I can do to make myself warmer.
Therein, there is always hope in the cold.
When it’s hot, humid, and swamp,
I can only become part of the landscape of desperate mosquitos and muck.
The ants on my skin kiss the ants under my skin and my reason is eclipsed.
Chilled air, some cold wind, these things are truly bliss.
The cold enlightens me and tells me that I AM ALIVE.
The heat makes me only wish to escape,
even if to die.
The ice in the air can chill and slow my restless heart.
The snow calms me and motivates me to live or to slumber in some comfortable place.
Cold winds blow but to kiss me.
Heat, on the other hand, rakes her claws upon my face.
*The above is a modified selection from a previously published work by Nolan Storey called “Reflections of a Panic Disorder.” You can learn more about it and see sample pages here!
Editor’s note: If you enjoy the creative writing that Big Easy Magazine Features, be sure to check out some of our other recently featured writers! Alex and Adam both deserve your attention!
