Muddy cold mud

A remedy to my current situation would be digging my hands into mud. It's a tactile sensation, and I'm itching for something that feels. Not in the metaphorical, pretentious kind of way; I genuinely just want to cling to stuff between my fingers. I think that makes sense? Maybe? Here I am again clumsily pasting pieces of definitions together like it'll somehow make perfect sense to you. I recently moved into my first solo apartment, returning to the province where I spent my undergrad years. I developed a warm connection here long before school, growing up eagerly anticipating family trips to visit the "big" city. How cute and potent in cliché. I've been saving and saving and SAVING money ever since I got a bank account when I was 12; birthdays, allowances, lemonade stand earnings, and eventually various part-time jobs over the course of my adolescence. The idea of protecting what I've earned has been ingrained in me from the time I could understand language. Earning your keep is a…