Ice

A word to describe what some would call frozen water. However, throughout the span of my life it has meant so much more. Ice is a way to describe how I feel most of the time. Ice spreads the cold that it contains to all things that touch it, constantly diminishing all signs of heat. And for what cause? To satisfy it's own needs. Ice can build walls that can entrap and block people from those they love. It is thick, but can be clear making you believe that you can achieve your dreams until you hit the wall and like a thin layer of ice on a silent pond, you shatter. Ice can also act as a surface, you stand there surrounded by good things and people to help, but as soon as you try to move towards something or someone you begin to slip, you run, but you can't move. Stuck in the same spot not able to reach help and slipping and falling again and again. With each fall on the ice a crack forms until the ice breaks and you fall into darkness. Ice can cut off the sun and fill the space with darkness and cold, like my heart last winter. The ice is dangerous and is a constant threat, but the points of the ice-cycles are not as sharp as the blades being rammed into my heart with every harsh word that slips of the lips of strangers like a sled on the ice. The cold consumes me from the ice in their hearts and the sharp fragments of ice tear me apart. But, the spring comes and the ice starts to melt and the warmth floods in like a warm woolen blanket, surrounding me and pulling me tight, maybe for once I'll sleep well tonight. However, silently my brain still knows that something is waiting for winter and snow. The winter comes back and I pay the price my life freezes up and I'm left with ice.