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You are the month that gets no love from me and I'm sorry about that. You are full of possibilities and fresh starts and I should embrace you because of those. Instead, I find myself wallowing in the bitter cold, deep snow, and desire for hibernation. January is the month that I acknowledge my slow descent into depression. Without fail, January, without fail.
I vow--from today forward--that I will embrace you for the possibilities and freshness. I will no longer whine about how cold it is. I will celebrate the lengthening days and the sunlight when we have it.