March comes in however it damn well pleases and goes out pretty much the same way, with zero fucks to give. Lion or lamb or duck or whatever. March does its own thing. March does March and leaves everyone else to their own thing. Sixty degrees today and twenty by Saturday. Work your year round wardrobes. March just doesn't care. It is the most uncaring month of the twelve, named after the god of war, and maybe rightly so.
Feeling some kinda way today but I will bury myself in the day and just work. I will do my damnedest to ignore every manner of cloud from cumulus to nimbus. They don't care about me and I don't care about them. That's the way to get by sometimes. Go straight through. Don't stop. Finish up and go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
I will do my best not to let yesterday's feelings creep into today, but I will respect them too. I will set time aside to pay attention to them and let them air out.
I will get by, no matter what.