BURN

I think the feeling of being cold is not given its due. Like the saying goes, you cannot ever know warmth without knowing cold. Cold tends to grip your very essence in its existence, and makes you feel things you did not know were out there to be felt.

Cold nights. Sitting on the roof, letting the wind travel every inch of your bare skin, making goosebumps break out on it - I cannot ever tell you how therapeutic that experience is, for it does to you what rain does to dry earth; it replenishes you and just when you feel good, it leaves you, letting simple, boring air take its place.

Imagine coldness washing itself over you, while on the horizon you see the blazing sun. Hold on to that emotion and let it take you for a ride. Everything around you looks bright and shiny, and you stand in that light, but you're not warm. No. You're cold. You're as cold as ice, with your arms and your legs and your eyes frozen, looking at a single spot on that far sea. You don't move towards it, no, for you know for sure that it will make you feel better, warmer and more comfortable.

Cold is misjudged too. If cold is your escape, you're branded harsh, rude, evil. But cold is not that. Cold is not empty either. Cold just is, and when and where it exists, you do too. It drives you, moulds you, sharpens your edges and makes you invincible. Cold isn't a passing state, it's how life moves on each passing second. It's the ability to stare at warmth right in the eye and disregard the comfort and safety it offers and embrace the pain of the sharp icicles and the freezing of the blood inside you.

Imagine cold rain washing itself over you, stripping each hot layer of insecurity, doubt and fear off of you. Cold exists in solitude - if there is cold, there cannot be anything else. You're numb to all the other things that try to drive away your warmth, and cold becomes your sole reality.

It's a cold so cold that it burns you, and it sears into your skin.