The Coldest Winter

A look at the poetic side of a twisted youth

Long forgotten are the days of yore. Memories that haunt my waking hours ever pressing. For it is in our nature to relive those glory days - the sting of the crisp winter air, the shuffle of leaves on the back porch, the spring wind always nipping at ones lips. A time when life was complicated yet looking back all so simple. Those were the days we learned to love and loss, to hope and dream. Those are the days that forever haunt me.

In solace we hold onto the winds of nostalgia. Yet day after next more seems to blow away. Like grains of the finest sand always slipping between your fingertips. Forever I look back on the people and places that have defined me now, often wondering "where are they now?" How much of ones childhood can a man hold onto until all is lost? To say the least, in the end of the day it never mattered how tightly one held on but how willing they were to let it all go.

Warm summer nights conjure up days of endless dreams, now alien to even myself after all these years. Days when nothing in the world mattered but the moment. Forgotten smiles and wild nights held the tightest sway over all we surveyed. It was those nights that defined me, those nights that kept me awake after all these years. Questions forever unanswered, answer forever gone.

The pain of being young seems to trivial now - for I am old and much wiser than I was before. The daunting drama of everyday life now seems so senseless. For now all I can do is look back and smile. For these were there good times and the bad. That was my life.

No drama held more water than realizing you are young and truly alone in the world. Losing one friend seemed to be enough for most people. Though I did not lose just one friend, I lost them all. It left a pain in my heart only time could heal and for years I questioned why of all people, why me? For once I had chosen the right path - a path that was the only responsible choice I have ever made. Yet it was a path of loneliness and despair. For to walk down that road ment I could never look back, no matter how lost I may seem. A path free from addiction and hopeless nights.

To wake up and realize that things have changed for the better is like breathing in the first of the chill winter air. Nothing seems so clean and pure. Then, reality hits you. Did you leave everyone to there fate? Were you the one that turned your back? You rationalize it. The countless nights lost to drunken stupors, the frenzied hours of amphetamine-laced days - that's what you walked away from. You walked away from the fun and excitement of your youth. You walked away because it was the right thing to do. You choose to walk away because you have lost all hope in those you cared most about.

You see to them, you were cold.
To yourself, you couldn't care anymore, it was too hard.

And so time drifts on. Friendships rekindle, hearts are mended. Yet in the end of the day after five, ten years down the road, you suddenly realize that in the end, you were only young.

When you realize that, it will be the coldest winter you have ever felt.

And it is those days I will miss the most as I grow old.

Author's Note

2nd Draft. An expose on the poetic side of you. Every depressing teen tends to write about how hard life is and how dark and gloomy the world is which just upsets me. To me, this is my anti-emo statement, something to give the finger to all those kids that think they have it hard.