From the diary of a self-searching teenager

I hate winter. It must be because I never fail to feel it all the time deep within, just dwelling there, haunting my inner being and proudly declaring victory after every fight. It’s funny how the more it stays inside the more I grow comfortable with it and just go along with whatever it has to bring. It always brings the same thing - emptiness. I hate winter because it manages to ruin every single summer of mine without even being there. I truly hate it.

The only thing I can recall from the last few hours is whiteness. Endless landscapes of white, where the sky and the earth look so much alike that it seems as if they’d created the perfect state of equilibrium uniting into one. It’s a whole new universe and I am the only black spot that stands out in there. I am the cause of chaos in a land of carefully built order. I see it. And I see the perfection in it. And I know that I’ll never be as perfect. And that terrifies me, it frightens me so much that I start to run. That I start to scream. And just like that I close my eyes and refuse to see. I blindly follow a previously defined path. And so I lose myself along the way. But I am trying to run away of the fear itself so much, that I don’t even realize this crucial detail until later. And later is the point that forces me to stop. Later is the point at which I hit something. Or rather something hits me so strong that the pain causes me to open my eyes. And see clearly into the winter after all that time. As I acknowledge that something’s missing I see dark silhouettes appearing as wolves coming nearby. I close my eyes once again, for if I can’t see them they as well might not be present there at all. And if I kick and hit and run they will be gone in reality as well. But what is reality anyways? What defines it? The world I go into when I close my eyes presents itself as a much better one than this mixed, never-ending place filled with emptiness and darkness and wolves. Why can’t I make my perfect little world beyond closed eyes my reality? Why can’t I live into my fear-free kingdom with everlasting summer, where I never need to buy warm clothes as a protection from winter. Where the wind is not able to blow me off my feet. Where my dreams always come true and I don’t feel as a chaos in a place of order. Where there’s no atrocities that create obstacles and harden life. And where most importantly nothing is perfect. Therefore I make an interesting realization. The power of will is a great one. Maybe I did not close my eyes because of fear and desire of escape. Maybe I closed them simply because that was my will. That was what I wanted to do. So I concentrate. And I open them. All of a sudden I can distinguish the sky. It’s somewhat lighter now. I notice the deep scars that all the struggles have left on my body. But now I also see that what seemed to be wolves were people. Mere people who were merely trying to help me and who I neglected in the state of strong egoism and self-centeredness. And while trying to fix what I managed to break I can sense the pieces of my lost self coming together. Far in the distance there is a spark. A spark of hope. It’s up to me to decide whether I shall follow. I feel power in my hand and wisdom on my mind. Self-realization is yet to be approached.

But all this winter will stay, making it hard to walk. Making it hard to see, but never succeeding into causing me to close my eyes ever again. Still, there’s no doubt I hate it.