I. Am. Cold.
My room feels like a freezer, and my hands are so stiff I can barely type. My feet are like stone. The laptop is the only thing in this room that feels even remotely warm.
My face feels like ice.
In this cold cruel room, I am typing this. How I wish the sun’s rays will come towards me, and I will be joyful, dancing in the golden light.
Poetically, I fail. However, I hope to make one statement clear through this post.
I. Hate. My. Room. Temperature.