All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
So imagine this: it’s nighttime, and it’s cold outside. Your coat is not as warm as you thought it’d be. It’s not snowing yet, but it will later. You don’t know that, though. All you know is that you can’t see the moon and the clouds look purple and are swollen with precipitation. Are you waiting for someone? You must be, because why else would you be outside on a night like tonight? Whoever it is, they’re late. And it’s cold. You don’t think you can feel your fingers. You would be irritated if it didn’t take so much energy.
Those are your feet, right? Trying to get warm, are you? Good luck. Nights like this are nights when hobos freeze to death. But that makes you sad, so you stop thinking about it. You don’t like to think about things that make you sad. Who does? I guess that makes you a normal person.
Maybe all normal people are jackasses like you.
Sorry. That was harsh.
Imagine this instead: you’ve met whoever it is you’re meeting, and you’re both inside where it’s warm. There’s no fire, but there’s a mug of hot cocoa like your mom used to make. It was so much colder outside than it is in here that your fingers hurt. Wrapping around the mug doesn’t make it better.
It’s snowing now. Thick, fat flakes drift down outside your window. It would be pretty if you didn’t live in the city. But you do, so instead of thinking about the beauty, you think about what a pain it is going to be to get to work tomorrow.
You turn on the TV to make some noise in your empty apartment. There was someone else who lived here with you once, but you burned that bridge a long time ago.
The phone rings, so you turn the TV up so that you don’t have to talk to whoever it is that’s calling you.
Maybe it’s your boss calling to say that you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Your fingers hover over the phone as you debate whether or not to look at the caller ID.
You decide against it. Whoever it is can leave a message.
Is this too hard?
Try this one: enough snow has fallen so that you know that you won’t have to go to work tomorrow. You plan on sleeping late, catching up on some TV show you don’t even really like, reading some book that’s way too smart for you.
But what if you took a step outside?
Good. I see that you’re looking at your coat. Go put it on.
I know it’s not warm enough, but you’ll keep moving, won’t you? Then you’ll stay warm.
Stop thinking. Just go outside.
You’ll feel better, I promise. You don’t know it yet, but when you take that first step into the snow, you’ll remember that you used to make snowmen with your dad. You haven’t talked to him in a while, so you call him up. He’ll be glad to hear from you.
The first step will remind you about the snow days from school, and you’ll dig out your old yearbook to look up an old friend.
All you have to do is put on your coat. I know you can do it.
Put on your coat, walk out the door. It’s so easy. You do it every day.
Don’t sit back down.
Break free of your boring little world. Break into the snow outside. I know that person last night was late, but you really shouldn’t take it so personally. They probably had a good reason.
Don’t open that book.
It’s not your fault. You know that, deep down inside. You just don’t want to believe it. You want to wallow in self-pity and shame.
Ah well. There’ll be other snowstorms this winter.