Days start getting colder in October. The cold feels more prevalent this year. The chill seeps in through the layers of clothing I now wear. My threadbare trench coat does nothing to keep me warm, the wind buffeting around me. I have been given a hat by a kind old woman who believed me homeless. I suppose that would be an accurate description. Without my wings, I no longer feel at home in my own body. I feel trapped, and I only wish that I could run away. That's what I'm doing. Running. That's why I have not returned to the closest thing I have to a home. The eyes waiting for me feel cold, though I have not see them for some time, not since the loss of my wings. I wish I had the courage to return, but I dread the sight that could greet me.
moving from place to ace has become difficult now that my wings are gone. I must rely on strangers for rides, hopping from car to car, truck to truck. They take me closer to my destination in small bursts, town to town. Slowly I am making my way across the states, hoping to find the courage to reach the destination I have in mind. A few kind souls have given me clothing and money for food, though they are few and far between. I only hope it will be enough to get me to my destination, for I know that I will receive a warm bed, food, and clothing once I get there. At least, I hope so. I can not be sure of the response I will receive. When I was last there the eyes were so cold. I hope they will be warmed by the time I get back, this month is already cold enough, I do not think my heart could take that kind of chill.