the last warmth of autumn

Two times in one week? Maybe Scorpio really is my season. Joking that it might dull the ache, but I know better. However, a video call has topped it all— small mercies that only seem to deepen the longing. This birthday felt quieter than ever, a year slipping by like a whispered promise. Another year down, and many more to come, each one carrying me further from the person I am now.

Looking back, this past year was quieter in every way— fewer friends, less drama, a muted excitement for life. Disappointments, yes, and lessons woven into the fabric of every day. There’s a strange feeling that comes when you leave an old version of yourself behind. You realize you’ll miss not only the people who once filled your days but the version of yourself that lived in those moments, because you’ll never be exactly this way again. I’m grateful for the friends who remain, each one a reminder of where I’ve been and the pieces of me they still hold.

I’ve also learned that distance won’t break me; I’ll simply have to live with it as long as I choose to hold on. Yet there’s this ache— a constant, quiet throb that lingers in the background. But nothing makes a room feel emptier than wanting someone in it. Although life goes on and before you know it, one year has slipped by.

One year. Somehow, it feels like both a breath and a lifetime. A year of small moments that became so much more than just days passing by. A quiet collection of laughter, glances, and pauses— each one a tiny marker of something we built without really trying, yet putting everything we had into it.

However, lately it’s been sinking in just how low I’ve been feeling. I can barely pull myself out of bed; the effort to do anything else feels like too much. Even the thought of food, things I used to enjoy, brings no excitement— just a kind of dullness. It’s like everything I used to care about is just fading.

Now, with an afternoon in October or with the beginning of November, the season feels full of longing. I hold tightly to the last warmth of autumn, the golden hues, the remnants of a moment that was never meant to stay. It’s as if I’m clinging to something that’s already slipping away, and with each passing day, the ache only grows.