#snow #abuse #narcissistic #empath #trauma #winter #creativefiction

Love and other things we find too intimidating, so we dabble.

We dabble in hearts.

We give 10%.

We dip a toe in it.

But if it seems too cold, we retract.

No, no. This is not right. Too hard to try and love this. Too much effort. And too much resistance.

When we meet, befriend, or are family with someone who is cold.

And it hurts us when they are distant back.

When their game face is the same as their "I love you face."

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If you are empathic or a highly loving person, this is dangerous for you.

Yet you are in awe of the snow aren't you?

Don't lie...

Cold things have an appeal to them.

It is that stark, quiet, resilient, strong exterior.

Ever notice how you feel playful and happy with snow once you play in it?

How delicate and unusual it is, to touch and get a taste of something that is quite deceiving.

It is actually quite delicate and fragile in your hand, isn't it?

In fact, cradling the snow in your palms you can see that it just melts.

And you feel warmth inside from this beauty.

"Look what I can do."

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Let's talk about the love and intimacy issues an empath has when they fall in love with snow.

When they delight in the cold things.

Like a child, filled with wonder.

Looking forward to days off, to quiet play.

Let's talk about how cold, frozen things cannot be hot. Like...ever.

There is no warmth in snow.

Only death.

Yet we look out for it and we choose it.

Let's talk about how falling in love with a narcissist, for an empath, is like leaping up Christmas morning to snow fall on the ground. Running outside to play, no coat or boots.

Running and twirling, socks getting soggy in the powder.

How a beautiful thing, a cold thing is so tempting that even when their lips turn a blueish hue and their teeth begin to chatter, they say "its ok, I am not cold."

Let's talk about how they will lay right on their back in the fluff, arms and legs spread out wide. Taking the snow right in. Absorbing it. Nose wrinkled, eyes shut.

"Just a little while longer."

And now, immersed in the deep end of the yard and burried in this puffy, cool blanket they finally look around at the vast white emptiness.

And the silence kills.

The empty streets, no one around for miles. The isolation snow has. Everyone else safe and warm in their homes while the empath lays there naked and shivering.

Wondering how she got so far away from the warmth, how the feelings got drained from her limbs.

What a realization, that snow does not bless growth -- but instead feeds on all it touches, to death.

How the snow did not warm for her after all. It just melted away into nothing, that is if it did not swallow her whole and take her with it.