like the leaves, we fall. maybe not according to season, but we do. and there’s something honest about that. there’s something honest about seasons, how it’s almost human, in a way. so in fall, we fall. in love, in place, in time. we place clouds on the ground to try and soften it but sometimes it doesn’t work and the full impact hits us straight in the chest and it hurts in a way that you could almost describe it as ‘good’. i want to say love is hard in autumn, but i have been proven wrong on so many occasions. so i won’t say that. instead i’ll say, love is catching the right people, and letting go of the wrong ones. it’s realising that people change as quickly as the autumn leaves do. it’s braving the storm together. here, September is spring. where things start to come out of hibernation. i always fall in love with more in the springtime - people, warm nights, gardens of flowers, the smell of summer, the endless possibilities. love in September is different, it’s new. it’s seeing things under a new light. it’s cloudless skies and you’re the bees-knees. it’s sleeping with the window slightly cracked open because cold winter nights aren’t so cold anymore. it’s the sun watching your back. spring is like stepping out the other side of the storm, knowing that you’ve made it. and it surprises you, even though you seem to make it every other year. and it’s beautiful how brave you are.
