the mountain was different today even though it was the same mountain and it wasn't the snow or the temperature or the way the wind felt, not really it was something inside me that had shifted and made the whole thing unfamiliar and new, like waking up in a body that isn't quite yours anymore but it moves the same way, it knows the same paths, it can still make coffee that cuts through the jaw-numbing cold but somehow the taste is sharper, the edges are brighter and i'm not even sure i like it, this clarity. i kept thinking about what @just_breathing said, something about boxes and i guess i finally unpacked all the sharp edges, the things i was too afraid to hold because they might cut me and now here i am, barehanded, wondering if i even know how to feel anything anymore or if i just got too good at not feeling, and i don't know if that's better or worse than bleeding out every time something touches you, it's just different, i guess. that's all.