The Bitter

         When I was young I was scared of the dark. I was afraid that there was something out in the darkness hiding in the shadows waiting to hurt me. Something that would enjoy watching me be in pain.
         I also hated the cold bite of winter snow. My parents always called me the lizard because I would stand over the heater vent with my blanket.  I didn't learn to appreciate the dark and bitter cold until I was 13 and my family had just moved.
        The school I went to was a nightmare where everyday I was reminded that I didn't belong. Constantly battered with remarks of how awkward, weird, and annoying I was.
        At home it was no better. My dads new job always made him frustrated and mad. My mother was always ready to explode because of the stress, and my siblings were always gone.
        I was alone...
        During the summer we moved I had taken a liking to going up to the roof of my house and watch the sunset of amazing hues, but now was not such a time of warmth. It was snowing and close to midnight. I had stayed up so late listening to the argueing of parents and the torment of another day of being called useless.
        I needed an out...
        So only wearing shorts and a t-shirt and nothing else I decided to go to the roof of my house through my window. I remember my bare feet feeling like knives had punctured them while crawling to the highest peek of my house. The darkness made me blind and I had to use only my memory to scale this glacier-esqe incline.
       When I had reached the top I sat there. the bitter cold had made me numb not just from the physical pain but from the memories and fears of what was to come. The darkness felt as a blanket wrapping me up in my own little solitude. After this enlightenment had come upon me a small smile crept onto my face. All I remember was that was my first real smile in a long time and for that I must be eternally thankful for the dark and cold.