It was a leaf.
One singular leaf.
And it fell.
Speaking only in a whisper as it went. Its last cry carried on the wind that took it from its place, its home. It was just the one leaf, falling through the breeze. Calling to me, warning me, as it did.
He is not the same.
That’s what the leaf said.
He is not who you think him to be.
Was the echo the wind gave. Words that spoke of fall, of seasons changing. Words that carried truth to them. A resounding, hollow ring.
I will tell you something that few know:
A forest on the verge of death can only speak truth. It has been that way since always. Since forever. An ancient law, as old and bright as the sun. Which is how I knew:
He was not who I thought he was. Continue reading “Cold Comes the Lie”
I like fall the best. Which I know is very cliche. Especially of a female. But, fall is so pretty. So beautiful. Unique. Unlike spring, which is so ridiculously wild. So cramped with things bursting into being. No, spring was my least favorite. Fall is definitely the best. It brings about the time of the year.
When the leaves change colors and you know the year is about to end, it gives you that melancholy. That special feeling because you know that the year is about to die. Old things are falling away and new things are to come. The world seems so thin and frail in the fall. It forces you to appreciate what you have. Even the dying leaves. Fall is so wonderful, so colorful.
Because when something is about to die, like a year or leaves or even something like a relationship, it turns into something unrecognizable. It transforms. And it does it’s best to leave you with an impression. With everything in it’s power, it attempts to “wow” you, one last time. It does everything it can to get the message across.
That’s how I knew you were dying. Continue reading “Fall is Holding Fast”
“Seeing the doctor a month ago would’ve been better.”
“I didn’t have this problem a month ago Mom. I already told you that.”
I attempt to sniffle, but nothing happens. It’s as if my nose has been stuffed with concrete. Which is why it hurts to itch my nose. If I scratch at it, the skin inside my nostrils burns like it’s cheese in a grater.
As much as it hurts, it isn’t hell. Which is why I’ve put off getting a check-up for so long. It’s practically the end of spring now. Continue reading “Allergy Season”