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Snuggled together on a thin futon mattress on a concrete basement floor, feeling the cold seeping in through the walls, and knowing that the cold was only beginning for the year. We pulled the dryer vent under the blankets with us and dried everything we could find on the highest temperature setting over and over while playing video games and planning how to cure the woes of society.
Trench coats, pockets lined with items liberated from Wal*Mart. Laying everything out on a pool table for inventory before falling asleep in a nightclub bat cave, legs and fingers wrapped together like bonsai branches.
Running straight into the teargas and rubber bullets because people were hurt and some of them were people I care about. Walking off without a scratch. Seeing a friend tackled, guns shoved to his back, and me, again, walking away unscathed. The feeling of terror, anxiety, and excitement that this is just the tip of the iceberg. It will become more violent. People I love will be killed. And it will unify us into something tragically beautiful and dangerous.
The suspicious break-in attempts, the plot developing, and the surge of unified vigilance. The tension. The guns, the alarms, the knowledge that if a loved one was hurt I'd have justification for the warpath I long for, and for once I'd have an identified target. The terror of harm coming to someone I love because of my past violence. The looming threat of tragedy. The knowledge of what could happen, and what I could do, as chilling as the fall nights.
It's fall again. Fall brings back such memories. Many memories of strange beginnings to school semesters, struggle, suicide, ambulances, walking alone against the wind, and having the rustling of leaves in the wind constantly fucking with my need to listen for the sound of footsteps around me. Fall seems familiar. It feels like home. I don't like the cold, but I feel like this was the environment that birthed me. A lot of defining moments in my life occurred in the last few months of the year. Fall reminds me that I need to be alone. I don't usually make myself alone because I think my compulsion to hide when I'm depressed is a weakness that needs to be overcome, but fall seems to invite me into the night to walk with it alone. It frames a state of mind that makes it easier to acknowledge what's genuine in me. I need to return to that place from time to time. It's not a very pleasant place, but it reinstates the me that exists despite the acts that I always have to put on for people. I don't like who I am, but I like that I am something that I can identify and understand. Fall helps get me into the state of mind to ponder the core of it all. What I want to devote my time to, how long I want to give myself, and what I think about this world that I'm inhabiting for the moment. Something about the temperature, the colors, and the smells of it all help me block out the mundane. Fall's my battleground.
Just a few minutes ago, I closed my eyes and for some reason, I saw myself in a field, leaves blowing up around me as I spun around and fell to the ground. Then my boyfriend fell beside me. But I did not look as I do now, I look as I did many years ago, I had long hair. I haven't had long hair since I was a sophomore in High School, I was thin like I was when I was a sophomore too... Kinda funny how that works out.
It just seems like such a stark contrast to how I'm currently doing. To close my eyes and see such a happy, peaceful, beautiful scene in my head, and then open my eyes and feel depressed, tormented, wrestling with my insecurities is like putting salt on a wound. I wish I could go to that place in my head and hold on to that happiness for just a little while.
I feel lonely, despite the fact that I'm with people most of the time. I want to spend time with these people, but I miss my friends from home. I miss the conversations we have. I miss the way they make me laugh.
The Fall is a woman, with auburn hair, long and curly. Her eyes are the most interesting shade of emerald green with yellow and orange flakes of color intermingled within, much the same as the leaves on trees. She has pale, perfect skin with red and brown freckes dusted none-to-lightly over her cheeks and up around her eyes, all across her chest and arms. She is tall and her long hair comes down past her waist in wild, untamed waves. She has a slight smile on her face at all times, suggesting mischief and trickery. She has medium sized pale lips. Her hair is held back by a ring of weaved fall wild flowers entertwined with the beautiful leaves of fall. She wears a simple dress with a squared neckline and long sleeves. It's made of out a sturdy cotton or wool and dyed various shades throughout the layers of the garb such as burgandy, gold, cream, and other, more earthy tones. She does not wear shoes, and her long pale hands are easily seen at the ends of her sleeves along with her tiny wrists.
Fall is always a beautiful woman to me. She and her lovely sister Spring. But she is the most beautiful of all. I love the Fall. I love the times I spend with my friends in the fall. Summer is lonely, Winter is cold when your friends are far way and the snow separates you from them, and Spring is much too cheerful for my tastes.