I can feel it coming.
There is a time of year, every year.
This is that time.
I become reflective.
I become sad.
Like the last 9 months, when I smiled.
When I laughed.
When I pretended everything was okay.
Like those months have finally caught up with me.
And I listen to sad music.
And I cry.
And I beat my fists against the bathroom floor.
And I just can't figure it all out.
My rocking chair rocks in the quiet of a dark bedroom.
As I stare out the window.
It only makes sense that these feelings surface during the fall.
It only makes sense.