seasons.change

I’ve noticed that I tend to change along with the seasons.

Not entirely. Not that I become a new person altogether every single year. Not that I don’t have one personality, or name, I just have different variations on the same whole, I suppose.

But… it’s this constant state of uncertainty. Can I blame the time of year for my apathy rising? Can I blame the colours I see out of my window - or lack thereof - on how many friends I’m able to keep?

I’d say it begins in spring, the cycle begins anew at the start of the calendar year, but I’d be lying. In spring, when the world is damp, and grey, and not quite snowing but mostly just filled with pollution and sludge I’m dreary. I’m tired, and just kind of...floating around. Drifting through space and time. Maybe I lash out at friends, maybe I lash out at myself. I say maybe because I can’t remember; I’ve become exceptionally good at blocking out the worst of it. Delving into my mind for springtime is like diving into quicksand - it consumes you, slowly, and you can’t see a thing, can’t breathe, there are grains all-encompassing and your body just feels...heavy.

No, it doesn’t begin in spring. It begins in winter.

Not Halloween, not then. I expend all my energy on one final burst of feeling alive, of revelling in the early twilight and the spooky stories. This goblin haunts graveyards, stalks streets, wears capes that billow and make me feel phenomenal. No, no, no - I love Halloween. The colours, the atmosphere, the vibes, it fuels me entirely but then

then

then November hits and I lose it all and I’m tired again, and regretting using all my energy on this one holiday when there are other things to do in November, like Bonfire Night, my sister’s birthday, projects to get done, Christmas to prepare for, and

November settles in and at first it feels like a soft, downy blanket being laid over my mood. I don’t feel anything, my energy seeping into sleeping all day instead. Soon, however, that blanket becomes sharp. It’s like trying to sleep but you’re lying on a wooden floor, or someone suddenly takes the pillow out from under you, or a bug bites you just as you finally get comfortable. The jolts start small but soon it’s just...soon it’s December. All you feel are these jolts of the world trying to get you to respond again but please, please just let me go back to sleep.

(If I could hibernate I would.)

I’d say I only feel like myself again in summer. There’s no real concept of autumn anymore, not with the way the seasons are changing thanks to good old global warming. So - warm weather. Sunshine. I’m me again. I’ve got the wild volume of bounciness back, I can make jokes! Come up with things! Creativity and I, we’re tight in summer. I feel like I’ve been energised like, like, like, I’m a plant. I photosynthesise. Or! Like my tortoise, he picks up so much energy in summer, absolutely zooms across the grass. I can match all of that and more I’m just m e .

And it’s not even like the change into zombie-ness is sudden. It’s so gradual I don’t even notice, so gradual it took me years to identify that I felt at my worst in the colder months. I always just blamed it on exams to prepare for, on friends drifting away, of transferring schools or moving to university. Blame it on anything other than me.

I noticed that I change along with the seasons but please

please remember

winter is not the ‘real me’.