Wet clothes are heavy, they feel uncomfortable, and they don't protect me against the cold weather any more. I can shed the clothes, free myself from their weight and be naked against the cold world. I'm not worried about being in my skin, I know they would first laugh at my nudity, then scold, forgetting I'm just like them, unclothed, empty and l ifeless. What's holding me back is the fear, fear of yielding to that lifeless emptiness. I remember the warmth of my clothes, mentioning h-bar alone would get me elated; I could get drunk spending hours thinking about a small question that popped up in some corner of my mind. I remember the comfort of their softness, look of that shiny eyes, and the softness of that dark brown hair, which would talk to my heart silently. I remember the joy of being dressed, the enthusiasm that drives me crazy sometimes. The club, forums, and day-to-day news which used to remind me that I'm human, c