September. When time no longer matters, and darkness is welcomed. We wake to a fog filled world. There is a coolness in the air, being welcomed with open arms. The leaves are our clock now. Never wanting time to go, yet wanting to see the beauty only time will bring. Leaves begin to change, the sweet scent of apples and leaves mix in the air, the sound of rakes scraping on the ground begins to comfort my soul. September. You have lit a fire beneath my soul. I feel renewed with energy.
September. The time when fashion begins to change. Layering, textures,
prints. New trends come and old ones leave. New inspiration makes way,
like a new chapter in a book. Writers block is cleared. The next
chapter is clear.
I complain, a lot. To much at times. About dumb things. Like someone taking to long to order their food, or someone rushing past me. But when it’s me it doesn’t matter. I need to change. I need to stop thinking that everything people do is directed towards me. Remember that there is a back story to everything. That the person speeding past me could be rushing to the hospital, or is simply late for work. I need to remember that the world isn’t against me, it’s my brain that’s against me. I need to change my brain, my interpretation of life and the world. I would be happier that way, not so anxious. Life would be so much more happier that way.
I woke up to an empty house this morning. A peaceful silence woke my slumber and I had a moment of sanity. No muffled running around, rushing to get out the door. It was like the world had shut off, just for a moment. Like the world had agreed to stop. I rolled out of bed and felt a shiver run up my spine from the cold floor, bringing me back to life. Like a bucket of ice was thrown on me, it startled me with a jolt. This is real, I am real, I am living this moment, and this moment will not live again, a new one will always replace it. This is my comfort, reality is my safe place. It’s a structure that I rely on, I fall apart without reality. This moment is mine, that I can control. In my own way.
WHAT’S YOUR REALITY?