On Seasons

November 26, 2010
The sky is an intense baby blue color, its vividness rivaled only by that of the grass and the trees. A much needed breeze stirs the landscape, bringing relief to a stifling hot August day. A hot air balloon floats lazily, aimlessly, probably bringing much joy to a young one far away. Perhaps the child is content just watching the majestic thing glide, gracefully bobbing the rooftops of houses in an almost humble manner. Or maybe the child wishes to climb aboard the balloon and embark on an adventure, sailing above the landscapes of a dozen different regions and escape from the choking stillness of summer. Summer time and the days stand still. The trees, the grass, the cloudless sky, all stagnate and every day is as the day before. It is during these days when I think to myself, how foolish I must have been during fall. Summer returns along with the hope of you. Summer arrives with a length of lights, and quietly gets swallowed by a wave. Nothing changes, save for you and I. It is fall and I am 17 but an entire year of knowing you has aged me infinitesimally. Last summer I was 16 and swore I wouldn’t need you. Two falls ago I was 15 and didn’t even know you. Two springs ago I was 15 and naive. Almost 3 winters ago I was 14 and a child. Who were you? Thus far, I’ve also seen 4 seasons of you. Last summer, you were an understanding, awkward (like me), big-word using, teasing, boy who was nervous. Last summer I was new and exciting to you. We overwhelmed each other. Last fall you acted like I meant the world to you. Last fall as we parted ways, you promised I’d always be on your mind. I never promised the same, but I may as well have because you haven’t been off my mind since last August. Last fall I was replaced. Last winter you were pretentious and annoying and I came to realize didn’t miss me at all. Last winter you sharpened the charming skills that I’d been oblivious to last summer. It was as if you were constructed by some evil company whose intent was to ruin my self esteem. Your crooked, sewn on smile had never seemed fake to me before. Your wide, blue button eyes had never reflected bad intent. Last spring you were too busy to care. And last summer, you made me feel guilty for genuinely wanting you, just as a friend. You’re just a commodity that I was lucky to get my hands on, one that I shouldn’t hold on to. Something I should feel lucky I had, and move on. Weirdly, I can actually really understand why you don’t pay as much attention to me as I’d like. I would probably be the same way if I was in your position. But I still expect so much more from you than I get. More. I would give anything at this point to be your friend again. I miss the conversation, the laughs, the good times, just getting lost like we use to. It is fall. I’m 17, about to embark on the most important journey of my life, and you still affect a lot of the things I do. Last fall, I was overconfident that summer time would bring back the good memories because summertime is when everything started. This year I am slowly realizing that you weren't made for the things I need you for, that I could be any random girl to you. Things are healing slowly, but I'm still somewhat ashamed that I actually thought you cared. This year I'm training myself not to be affected by the things you do but you still get to me sometimes. I haven’t learned anything. I haven’t learned that seasons repeat themselves, that nothing changes, and you will never come back to the way you use to be. You make things so difficult. One facebook message, one small text and I'm back to the start, disallusioned as ever. I wonder if you've ever felt this way about anybody. But there is no girl hot enough, artistic, talented enough, whatever, to break you down.





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