You Don’t Like Winter

So stop pretending you do.  When I complain about the impending season, stop saying you look forward to the snow, the cold, the wind, the darkness, because you don’t.  A small, tiny, truly insignificant portion of the human race actually likes the winter.  Do you know why?

Because it’s horrible.  It’s wretched.

You don’t like the way the pervasive cold seeps its way into everywhere, cracking things, drying them out, rendering them lifeless and without use or beauty.  You don’t like the way it gets dark at noon, casting a horrid gloom over the world, forcing you to turn your car headlights on for a short afternoon drive to the Wal-Mart.  You don’t like getting bundled up in clothes so oppressive, so thick and mottled you can barely bend at the elbows, or lean in close to whisper to your lovely bundled-up boyfriends and girlfriends.  You don’t like how it’s cold waiting in line at the movie theater.  You don’t like it.

If there be any sort of higher power (The Great Creator, or Supreme Being, or God, or Collective Unconscious, or just Higher Power, or whatever you want to call it), quite clearly created Winter so that the rest of our existence could be highlighted by its absence.  In Winter, most things die, whereas they birth in Spring and thrive all Summer long.  In Winter, our land becomes sheathed in a smooth, featureless white (which you may find visually appealing) that blots out everything we’ve toiled so hard to create.  The ice forbids us from functioning like competent adult creatures; the snow creates more work on top of our already havoc and labor filled lives.  Winter was built to dislike; this you cannot argue.

And while you may look forward to snowboarding, skiing, sledding or snowball-fighting, these are simply things you like to do.  If you could do them in Summer you surely would.

I know what you are doing, you foolhardy liars: you are whistling past the graveyard.  While some of us admit the dread that fills us as Nature’s worst blight approaches, you attempt to deny your most natural instincts by claiming to ‘like’ such a death-filled disastrous time of year.  The worst part about your transparent denial is that in conversation after conversation, those honest ones are forced to feel like pussies, soft human beings who actually prefer sunlight-filled Eden seasons.  I, for one, will not allow your contrivance to make me feel this way.

You don’t like Winter, so stop pretending you do.

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