Posted on February 16, 2012
I am beginning to go quite mad. It happened around this time last year, as well. I remember looking out my hotel window in Hamburg and realising it had snowed over night – albeit sparsely and for about five minutes – and feeling a wave of utter, crashing disappointment. The disappointment was followed by a flash of something like lunacy, which, as it happens, is one step up from pure, unbridled disappointment. I didn’t want to see snow anymore. I didn’t want to be cold anymore. I had been cold, at that point, for 5 months. My skin had not known sunlight for five months*. One can get rickets from not seeing sunlight for 5 months. I was sick of wearing a jacket, I was sick of wearing boots, I was sick of wearing a fucking scarf and I thought, surely, surely, it is coming to an end. Surely this is the point the sun comes out and everything warms up and people start smiling again and living outdoors, once more, becomes a possibility. And as I was thinking of this, as I was assuming this, I looked out the window and saw this. And started a low, grief stricken wail.
And so it has come to pass, that twelve months later, a similar level of madness is being approached. My flat mate arrived home at 7.30 tonight, to find me tucked up in bed, wearing my pyjamas, applying eye cream, for all the world as if I was about to bed down for the night. She gently mentioned my attire and indeed my locale and I said, ‘quite honestly, I have been in my pyjamas since 6pm.’ Why? Because it feels natural to shower and put on pyjamas when it is dark, or as good as, outside. Just like it feels natural to be in bed when it is chilly and pitch black outside one’s bedroom window. And in pyjamas (or variants of) and in bed embarrassingly early have I been, for months now. Because I don’t want to be anywhere else. Because there is no reason to want to be outside. There is no reason to be outside, unless one’s idea of a good time is to get rained on, be uncomfortably damp, shivery, red faced, sweaty beneath layers of thick, unbecoming garments and icy of extremities.
Listen to you, you may say, you sound like such a Negative Nelly.
This is what hours and hours of fucking darkness does to people. Pillages them of motivation, of energy, of desire, of, as the Germans say, lust, to do anything. Sucks them dry of their vitamin stores. Ravages their stashes of positivity. Depletes their stocks of dopamine. This is what day after day of low, grey skies, malevolently plump with the ever-present threat of rain, does to people. Drives them around the bend. Makes them go completely and utterly mad. Turns them into snarling, complaining, vile, stroppy beasts who see no light in the world, no fun.
I want to have bare feet and legs. I want to wear a dress. I want to not be cold when I get out of bed.
I just want to feel warm again.
* This is a long time when you come from a country that really only has a winter that lasts 2 months. And it isn’t even that cold.