The Difference is Just Noticeable and she perceives the change in me, like I got lost one day chasing leaves and turned up a season later with dirt in my eyes like I dug a hole and died until finally it again was beautiful outside. With frost on the inside of my bedroom window I can don scarves and thicker armor and remember that sometimes it’s okay, but in the slow transition from sun-soaked bliss to white blankets and icy wind, I fall short.
Something about the subtle leaving of better weather feels like being drained of blood and slowly left to dry. I’m left apathetic, hibernating, grey, just trying to get by.
September 30th, 2014