dear february,

i kind of want to know who you think you are.  forcing yourself upon us, you short, napoleon-y month.  i dunno.  so far you have been a bear.  just a real pain.  and we've only just begun...

i've always liked you.  you aren't in like a lion or any of that stuff.  you're just small and quiet.  usually.  but this year you seem different.  you've weighed me down in eight short days.  left me feeling...tired.  last night i tried to shrug you off and did forty sit-ups.  i could have done forty more but i didn't.  you'd won again.

i wanted to call in sick today, but didn't.  i want to be excited about our trip at the end of this month to the tropics, but i can't.  i am all worry and pouting.  all stressful situations and no coping mechanisms.  february, have you drugged me?  i am just not myself...

if i were more like myself, i would buy bright tulips.  i would stare at them all day long and take digital macro pictures of them.  i would play with light.  i would smile.  i would be able to handle more than one thing at a time.  i would feel awake.  instead, i am reduced to a stick in the mud.

february, what are you trying to prove?  was my overwhelmingly positive january attitude just too much for you?  did i disgust you with my optimism?  you could have just said so...we could have talked this out.  i would have agreed to be a little less optimistic.  i can compromise just as well as the next person.

i even know how to pronounce your name correctly.  does this count for nothing?  shouldn't it cement our friendship?

oh, february...your silence causes me heartache.  speak to me.  love me once again...