Interesting how things never quite are what they seem, isn’t it?

Like how on this night, Christmas Eve, I should be in the living room with my family, but I’m not. I’m sitting here on my bed, watching the snowflakes dance about just outside my window pane.

Like how, in this situation, I should feel lonely, but I don’t. I can feel the warmth emanate through my door. I’m tucked up safe inside a blanket. I’m glad I have a warm place to stay tonight, there’s such a storm outside.

I find myself thinking about the snowflakes. They are a part of a rage, but they are not responsible for the storm. They are victims of it as well. Unconsenting victims. Poor, beautiful crystals being whipped at my window by the moaning gale.

I thank heavens that I am not a snowflake. I have a choice.

It’s almost nice to be here all alone. I don’t have such beautiful thoughts when I have to understand those of others. Interesting how that is. Enlightenment is a solitary journey. They’d almost hold me back.