In the winter time I begin to feel like another person, like I don’t exist almost. Actually now that I recall, even as a little girl it felt like all year long I was just waiting for summer. I would say this and write it in my journal, or atleast think it privately to myself. It felt like life wasn’t real unless it was summer time.
I feel this way now.
I wish to say no more on the topic for it is giving me that awful nagging feeling.