i sit in the sun, wind blowing, hair in my face....determined to come up with positive traits about myself. i make a list...it is short. it is superficial. for every plus i write, my mind immediately counters with a negative; immediately second guesses the thought: 'do i really think that? would other people really think that?'
i feel the finality in every minute. it is heavy. it is tiresome. it is sad.
living life feeling like your purpose is to fulfill but not be fulfilled...is alienating.
i catch judgment around every corner...both giving and receiving....
im watching the yellow leaves dance...so playful in the wind. so foreboding that their death is near. that winter will soon snuff them of life.
i am the yellow leaf.
winter has come....no limbs are there to break my fall.
the sun feels warm. a nice contrast to the cool breeze.
he was warm, even when life was cold.
now its just cold.
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