Falling frost.

I seem to have been suffering from writer's block this week, not that I really qualify to call myself a 'writer' but there's definately been some sufficient blockage. Therefore I'm just going to write, not think, just write. So I apologise now for my meandering and scattered sentences.
Tonight feels wierd. I'm faced with the horror that is reality. With my only plans including brushing my teeth and showering, I'm strangely scared to be alone with my thoughts. Going out, drinking, dancing, visiting friends...I try to keep myself busy so as not to be alone too often.
I find that at University, facing a night alone and sober really is quite daunting. And I don't mean that in an obnoxious ''I get wasted every night'' sort of way; tonight has kind of given me time to reflect.
If I was to describe my life in one word, it would be 'inconsistent''. Every week is different, some weeks I'm motivated, some weeks I do no work, and my relationships with the people around me change on a weekly basis, too, it seems.
For the past few weeks I've felt quite content, I blame the snow. All these tiny, harmless little snowflakes have caused such mayhem and chaos; people have gone crazy, schools have shut down and workers have been staying at home, cars have been skidding and bums are sufficiently bruised. It's times like these that reminds us just how insignificant and small the human race actually is, in comparison to nature.
The weather has surprisingly surfaced a Robert Frost in me that I didn't know I had.
Well....being left alone with my thoughts may provide to be a little more poetic than I anticipated.