I’ve never done this before. 

I see people posting on these forums and can’t understand why anyone would voluntarily throw themselves on the fire- but here I am! 

If Spring is when anything is possible, does that make Autumn the time when everything closes in? Any suggestions on night classes for How to Be Human? Or Mending Your Dead Heart 101?

Is it normal to lie awake 1+ hours after you went to bed because your corner of the world is upside down and weirdly, you like it that way? 

Why is everyone obsessed with beginnings? The young, the fresh. The bloom on the rose. Honey, bunnies, virgins. What about the deep, the lush, the wrinkled, worn and loved down to tatters and dusty bits? The smell when you open a trunk buried in a garage for twenty years. The realization that it’s still okay. If anything, it’s better than ever. 

I don’t think of things as dying anymore. When leaves go curl and crisp, I figure they’re just dropping the bullshit. 

Are we the same? 

I thought needs connected me to everything, everyone. I thought it was desire, longing and lack that lead us down the road of our lives. It never occurred to me the road has its own allure, and same for the end of it. 

It’s not all about the valleys or peaks. There’s those tiny pleasures. Dropped mittens. Unravelling scarves. Socks with holes in the toes. Moonlight that takes your breath away (if you have any breath.) I used to think I had to howl to be heard, and now I can curl up and count down. This season permits this. 

Take mirrors, for instance. Does smashing them really bring seven years bad luck? Can you negotiate down to three for good behaviour? Does luck even matter if the cat’s purring and the blankets are soft and you’re cold but don’t need the heat? 

Is trauma safe for work? What about resurrection? Can you only resurrect after you’ve been crucified?

Can you enthusiastically consent to an exorcism? Any recs for fang-friendly dentists? 

Maybe this is my modern message in a bottle, and I’m hoping someone out there will light my fire, but I’ve had lovers and maybe even been in love, and as the nights get longer, I’m okay being cold. I’m fine with the quiet, the darkness, the shadows, creaking stairs and leaky faucets, books that look like they’ve never been opened when they’re just waiting for a new reader. 

I think of you -all of you- with your pulses and promise. I wonder what it’s like to crunch leaves under your feet, to know winter is coming, and one day, spring will be gone forever. I wonder how you feel to look at me and know I’m living in an eternal Fall. 

Even if our endings are different, can we still understand each other? 

Are you lonely? Are you content? Was it worth it? 

What happens when you (can’t) die? 


The End.