I love reading, I love creating stuff. I love being sad, being
angry, being happy, I love being scared, or in awe. I love having
to go out in -40 weather to get logs for the fire, then stomping
my boots on the rug, and sitting by the fire reading. I love
sitting out on the porch on a hot summer evening, in my favorite
chair. I love walking in the pouring rain, my clothes soaked to
the bone. I love when the snow gently falls outside, coating
everything in a cold blanket. I love that feeling before you fall
asleep, one of safety and security. I love life, and the thought
of never experiencing that again scares me.