One Minute I Was Freezing, The Next Minute I Wasn’t All Thanks To Perspective

February 2016, Brooklyn, NY

It’s cold.

The sun disappeared hours ago, and the wind is unrelenting.

It’s rip through your body; feel it inside your bones; I’ll never be warm again, cold.

I’m wearing a jacket, actually, my only jacket.

It’s designed for spring and fall, not seventeen below.

I’m not wearing enough underneath it, and a hat and gloves are luxuries I can’t afford.

The walk from the subway to my apartment is 17 minutes; it feels like hours.

I’m at 15th Street, so I have about 7 minutes to go.

I don’t feel well; I feel genuinely ill; skipping dinner (I don’t have the money) isn’t helping.

The shadow of shame, my perpetual travel companion, kicks in.

I can’t believe how sick and sluggish I feel; I can’t believe how hard it is to move.

I can’t believe I did this to my life; I can’t believe I can’t afford warmth or food.

Why did I make the choices I made?

I did this to myself, and I deserve a lifetime of punishment.