I've never liked autumn.
Winter is the time of hope, and the patient wait for the return of the sun.
Spring is the season of rebirth and maturity, when winter's patience yields spring's blossoms.
Summer is the time of bliss and contentment, when peace and love are at their peak, when the fruits of the year's labors may, at last, be enjoyed.
The summertime is when I met him. When I fell in love with every aspect of the summertime itself - the pleasant, humid wind that blew through his golden hair; the green leaves of the yew trees that provided us with shade, day in and day out; the sun that illuminated his gorgeous skin, the skin I caressed, kissed, and loved so very much…
The autumn reveals the true ugliness of all beautiful things. It robs the air of its warmth, the leaves of their color, and the trees of their leaves.
Autumn kills the beauty of the summertime.
They say that autumn reveals the beauty of change. They, of course, have never seen autumn's true brutality, the killer behind the façade.
Just as autumn reveals the true ugliness of nature, it revealed the ugliness of my love.
"The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and thus must be treated with great caution."
It takes my brother breaking my nose for me to realize this.
Death is necessary for the preservation of life. The autumn brought the death of my love and my innocence, but it also brought about the death of my ignorance and my selfishness. Autumn knew that only a brutal force could open my eyes to the evils I had dreamed of … and the dark side of my love.
The summer sun obscures the evils of unchecked passion. It led me to indulge my desires at the expense of my family.
As intelligent as I was, it took the death of my sister, the alienation of my brother, and the betrayal of my lover to make me realize this.
I often wonder whether ignorance really is bliss. Whether I may have been better off believing in summer's façade. I tell myself no, of course not; after all, I look at the pain and destruction that my ignorance brought to my doorstep.
Yet…I never would have known this, a voice in the back of my head whispers. I had myself for it.
But I deserve this pain. If I am truly dedicated to the greater good, as the two of us so vehemently claimed to be, my own suffering is really irrelevant.
He may be gone, but I must carry on. I must fight for the greater good in my own way: the honest way … the right way.
Autumn is the season of second chances, when trees, as well as human souls, may prepare to begin anew. It is the time of redemption, and of brutal honesty.
Yet, still, I cannot suppress the tears that come every year, as autumn leaves begin to fall.
-end