Cold

I was learning french on the balcony, wearing a sweater, and my legs actually got cold. I had tea and burned my freezing fingers on the cup.

I love cold. I live in tights and an oversized sweater.

Just don't have to care how I look.

And I love how it makes my hands cold. My skin gets dry and I have to lotion my hands and face every 10 minutes to not start bleeding.

I know it sounds stupid to like this.

But I do. It's a defect. I become vulnerable. Imperfect.

I want to be imperfect, and loved despite it.

x

/E