I woke three times last night. Once, I identified the reason for waking as an icy draft winding its way from the window to my bum via a small opening between the duvet and the mattress. When I woke and drew back the curtains, it had snowed outside.
The hillside I can see from my window has been sprinkled with icing sugar, it looks like a gingerbread village, especially at night. Pretty, as if everyone inside each house is cosyed up in front of a fireplace, roasting chestnuts and drinking good quality hot chocolate.
So winter is here, and it ain't no joke.
I don't know what happened to this year. Today is pretty much the first day where I am not grieving over loss of dreams due to previous partner, panicking because I'm pregnant or working 50-hour weeks to make ends meet (practically, not economically speaking; for some reason I like to torture myself by taking on way too much work).
I am still as much in love with GM as I have been since we met, though. I just think that missing him horribly because he is at school being (very deservedly) adored by a bunch of slightly stupid 16-year olds has become a bit of a baseline state, something I automatically allocate mental resources for dealing with.
This morning, I handed in the last essay I have to write this year, in fact it's the last essay I might ever write as a student. Now, only my thesis and final exams remain. It's a weird feeling. I am glad I put in as much work as I did, uncharacteristically working until a few hours of the deadline to get it right despite it only being pass-fail and as such having no impact what so ever on my GPA.
Getting through till actual Christmastime should workwise be relatively easy, no exams, just a lot of mandatory lectures through which I'll probably get to produce a lot of knitting. And after Christmas, well it's almost babytime, and all this missing my boyfriend and living apart will thankfully almost be over.
Suddenly there is space in my head for me. It feels weird. Like, what do you do with it?