The Year of Winter


Warning: Explicit content

Note: This is not a work of fiction but an analogy between Winter and Depression. This piece was inspired by my own personal journal and goes into how one feels in depression and journey with self-harm and social anxiety. Also, that all is obscured behind the black-lacy veil of dark metaphors. (My absolute favorite!)


Winter is not just a season. Its the coming of death as the autumn steps into the thriving gardens of the earth, bringing nothing but destruction and snow. The leaves fall, lay on the ground- as if forsaken, crumbled as if they themselves lost their hope of survival. Winter is a shape shifter for it comes in many faces- all of them deadly and cruel and Winter can change a person as well- sometimes in the face of the Winter chill that makes your soul tremble in the ultimate, most destructive Winter winds which are the blades of Winter in disguise.
Winter is almost like a sadistic demon. It uses its dark and sharp claws whose grip is like that of the iron nails- chilly, biting, cruel and eternal, to hold your heart in its tormenting grip of death and darkness and Winter pierce the heart open with its poisonous fangs which leave an everlasting wounds of wistfulness which fester up, in case Winter’s iron grip gets rusted.
Close to you in its smothering embrace, Winter holds you close to itself, breathing down your neck, venomously grunting low in your ears, waiting for you to surrender to your dark fate ahead which inevitably will be short lived  because Winter is contemplating ways to kill you and the soul shattering, brutal chill of Winter succeeds in making you groan a surrender. That makes the Winter grin, it does everything to you, with you- except bringing an end to your torment like it earlier promised, betraying its oath to end the torture for it would be mercy whereas the Winter wants to become the grave where you dance like a living corpse on the rhythm shrieked by your bleeding soul.
Secluded, your only companions would be Winter and Darkness- A cousin of Winter albeit less brutal than Winter. Unlike Winter, Darkness doesn’t have a face for it is everpresent- the deep void and bliss, for it brings another friend with it- Oblivion. One can escape into the depth of darkness, escape from sorrows, escape from agony of tears and torment of the Winterstorm and escape from the reality. This Oblivion becomes your friend, a strife for obscuring the sins and secrets behind the darkest veil and the merciful relative of darkness even helps you forget that you were captivated in someone’s slaughtering embrace- turns out that Winter had only been tightening its grip on you and festering on your soul like the darkest of demons eversince.
Earlier, you sang the lament for your hopeful dreams while now your soul sings its requiem for the Winter now possess you despite the fact that the season of those cold-hearted chills is long gone. Winter means business and its proximity would just compel you to think the reason why you were here to begin with, why are you still here and in the dark corner of your room somewhere you would find yourself in Winter’s company, contemplating- when all this will be over? Your life seems to be taunting you, sometimes derisively- the vision blurs and there is no tomorrow- for it seems to be colorless, no yesterday because it is eaten by the merciful cousin called Darkness and today seems to be oblivious, evanescent and forsaken- and you just can’t put together all the shards inside you that you are expected to hold, so you bleed tears.
Finally, the day arrives when the illusion of the ephemeral oblivion leaves your side and the darkness becomes as vicious as its cousin for it no longer helps escape to the fantasy land of forbidden dreams but becomes the screen where the past replays in a fast-forward-vivid-flashback over and over.
Darkness now feels like a paramour of Winter, both make love on your soul’s deathbed, moan a scream of gutteral ecstasy as they see your crimson tears, dance on the melody of chocked breaths that you hope would extinguish soon.
Your soul is ripped by these two demons, hope murdered beneath the waning moon in the everlasting darkness of hollowness and desolated silence. The pair of the paramours continue to be the master and the mistress, abducting the senses, seducing the surrender, murdering the meaning and erasing the efforts until nothing but a void remains in the coffin that was once your heart. Now you play along the Winter and the Darkness for it is the only way that appears to be the key to survive.
You breathe but deep down you know your breaths are filled with derision, you smile but somewhere you know that each smile is a masquerade that Winter or its lover coerces you to put on because you don’t want anyone to see your tears!
Tears! Crimson tears! Blood. Hmm, blood- the fiery blood seems to be the warm summer that deserves a welcome to your life with arms wide open in desperation, you are finally free from the torment and now you can feel the Winter’s grip being slippery with all the blood and it feels amazing!
With each crimson drop that spills and trickles down your flesh, you are born again and the ecstasy of opening your eyes after every reincarnation seems priceless- as if you are seeing a familiar scene with new eyes, your senses enhanced, your soul singing the sweetest serenade of emotions that were never felt before. And at last you see a crevice in the dark captivity of Winter, “let’s end this!” Purrs the crimson drops of fiery blood in a sultry tone acting the bate for you to surrender. And then you surrender, game over!


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