I hate the cold
The way the cold crisp wind brushes across my skin, leaving it flushed with pink cheeks.
I hate the cautiousness I take with each step, avoiding the dirty slush and slippery ice spread across the city.
I hate the way the snow stopped falling as it used to, how it left the whole city white and sparkling, like how the summer sun leaves the city golden and glowy, the river glistening as if it was filled with diamonds.
I hate how the sun sets at four, so when I walk out my door the city is dark and dull.
I hate lacing my skates at the break of dawn, as my blades cut through the clean empty ice, my coach yelling to skate faster and jump higher until the frigid air had trickled down my chest, leaving its mark with a horrible cough.
The winter leaves me so numb and cold I could jump into a pit of lava if I must.
I dreaded each day as I watched the goosebumps form my bare legs under my skirt
I imagined how they would fade into a golden tan in six months
I hate the cold.
If only I could live on the other side of the globe
Somewhere warm, where the sun shares its warmth all day, all night, all year.
Then I would never be cold.