Fragile snowflakes float upon each other, covering the land in the purity of white. Scenic and serene, the sight is breathtaking. The kind of breathtaking that rips the oxygen away from her lungs leaving her suffocating in the “beauty” of the world. It is as if she is the only one who can see the roadside mush of blackened ice that follows the snow. The rest of the world seems so content in the perfectness of winter, wrapped up in the warmth of holidays and family. All while the sharp, cold wind carves its way through her being, leaving her anything but warm. Her body is hollow. The only feeling disturbing the numbness is the shiver sent up her spine, gripping at her vertebrae, clawing at her mind. She tries to fight the internal war which is shattering sadness across every muscle. She tries to make the world seem happier. She tries and acts like everything's okay, despite the heaviness in her heart and the thoughts that keep haunting her in her sleep. She tries to make the days have more sunshine with forced laughs and smiles. She tries and tries and tries to not worry those around her, to not waste their time with her unbearable grief. All she can do is try to make winter stop. But the snow keeps falling. And the snow keeps blackening on the side of life.