February’s Grip

The sun has left us for a few rotations, only peeking out from behind the clouds in short intervals. It smiles down on us weakly, filtered through miles of gauzy cotton. How did I manage a more northern latitude? Just a day or two of relative darkness is enough to upset my balance.
Maybe I’m searching for explanations that don’t exist. To excuse my mood as simply a mirror for what’s outside. It seems impossible that such a minute change could affect me so drastically, and yet when I embark on my morning walk, the slow, chemical drip of melatonin invariably calls me back to bed. So, I hunker down, and I wait for February’s grip to loosen.
Love,
Your Brain

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