this is pouring rain, this is paralyzed

It's gotten so cold that I feel hyper-aware of my body. The weight of my hair, the elk bone pendent that takes on the heat of my throat, the nuisance of my breasts. I feel heavy and weak and not worth very much, but I'm persisting. I can't seem to shake this inertia. It would be good to write, but I'm dreading my year end review. It would be a good goal for the weekend.