Today is the first of December.

Today is the beginning of something that always comes, but I’m never prepared for.

It creeps up on me, like the cold that suddenly blows though the smallest crack in my window.

December brings nights that never really dissolve into days.

Skies never really see the sun, and like my heart, they are continuously grey.

Sometimes it rains and I find the clouds crowding my ceiling, letting small droplets fall into my bedroom. The water soaks into my skin and makes me feel heavy, like I’ll sink to the bottom of the lake that my four walls hold.

December looks, and feels, and sounds exactly like you.

It wasn’t always like this.

A year ago, December was magical.

It never rained. My room was filled with iridescent stars that were splashed across my ceiling. Sometimes they would sprinkle down as I held you in my arms. Your skin soaked them up and there I was, laying right next to the only star in my universe.

Now, December is grey.

It hasn’t stopped raining, outside my window or inside these walls.

I’ve never thought about how cold my room could get, but now that I’m the only breath filling it all I long for is any sign of the sun.

I’m stuck in a perpetual December.

And I’m starting to believe that I’ll never be able to see the sun again.