Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run...

I get really depressed in the winter. Not depressed like I want to slit my wrists, but depressed like all I want to do is sit on my couch in my sweatpants and be a hermit. I associate winter with loneliness, although it's not always and altogether negative.

My first winter in New York was the worst. I was newly single after a whirlwind first semester with a college romance and a bustling social life. I felt horribly alone in a city with very few friends, and was seriously contemplating transferring schools and coming back home. So, I sat at my desk by the window in my dorm and worked - constantly - while listening to Elton John and Billy Joel and feeling terribly sorry for myself. I was at least a week ahead in all of my classes. But as productive as I was, I was incredibly unhappy.

When the cold sets in, I unconsciously revert back to those memories. My first winter away from home is the hardest one to forget. And while each winter I try to create new memories associated with the cold, hoping the new synapses in my brain will overpower the old, I cannot help but think back to that cold and lonely winter of 1999, which isn't so terribly different from most of my winters since. And that's was most depressing.

Sigh.