I am officially depressed.
What is left to do is to collect all the snow flakes, keep them preciously in a box in a perfect temperature so they cannot melt and give them to you in summer.
What is left to do is to count my footsteps on the snow and be sure that it would be less than a billion of them until I reach you.
What is left to do is to close my eyes and be sure that your shadow will always dazzle in the dark.
What is left to do is to wallow on the snow and be sure that only the heat of my heart can save me from the cold.
What is left to do is to eviscerate myself before the feeling of missing you would empty me anyway.
I am officially depressed or I love you into depression.
How can I know ?
(Painting of Edvard Munch “The Day After” , National Museum of Oslo)