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Seasons
Topic Started: Mar 23 2018, 04:58 AM (2 Views)
basketkitty
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It's easy being sad.
There are a lot of reasons for this. For one thing, if you're sad, you might be too sad to do anything. Why bother with work? It's all the same thing. Why bother with studying? It's not going to change your grade any. Why bother eating? You'll just need to eat again later. Why bother waking up? You'll just go back to sleep in a few hours.
When you're sad, life becomes simple. Stay home, lay in bed, maybe watch some tv. Maybe read a book if you feel like your hands can hold the pages today.
It's even easier when you're alone.
There's no one to ask you why you can't smile. No one to tell you to just cheer up. No one trying to drag you out of the house to get some sun. No one insisting you need to make more friends.
Being alone, and being sad is easy.

Even your brain knows this. While you're sad, your brain creates a hormone to make you feel better. But it only comes when you're sad. Slowly, you become addicted to the sadness. It makes it even easier to be sad, because it's harder to be happy.
Being happy means smiling. Being happy means laughing.
If smiling is so good, then why do your cheeks hurt so much afterward? If laughing is so nice, then why does it make your sides ache?
Being sad is so much easier. You don't have to do anything.

But then you came along.

It wasn't anything special, at first. No sudden fluctuations of the heart, no fireworks sparkling through my brain... You were normal. Like everyone else. But you were comforting, and I could rest my head against your shoulder. You didn't mind if I didn't do anything. We could just be.

We would sit there a lot, you and I. We'd talk a little. Short sentences. Sometimes only a grunt or nod. You always smelled nice, and I appreciated that. We never did much, because it was easier than doing things.
But when you took my hand, I didn't fight it. You pulled me to my feet and gave me a soft smile. I lifted my head even more.
Our footsteps were slow, heavy. We stepped out into the cool afternoon, and I can feel people's eyes staring at us. I lower my eyes again, and consider dropping my hand. But you tighten your grip, slowing your step to match mine.
We walk.

As usual, I'm cold. I bury my free hand into my pocket and stare at the pavement as we move along. I hear your clothes sliding together, and feel you stop. You're smiling again, one arm pointing upwards to the trees. And for a long moment I stand there, staring up at the orange and red hues, watching as the sunlight glitters through the gaps in the leaves, shimmering with the wind that felt so cold only a moment before.
Slowly, I move my eyes from the sight, meeting yours. And I suddenly don't feel quite as cold anymore.

We have gone out a lot more since then. The leaves have already fallen off and blown away, leaving powdered snow and icicles behind. The reds and yellows are gone now, replaced with baby blues and silvery grays. I sit in front of the fire you built, and while I consider wrapping my arms around the flames to escape the freezing cold, I feel something heavy drape over my shoulders and a warm mug presses into my hand. Your arm wraps around me and my head leans against your shoulder as always. The holidays are coming, and I hate it...but I don't need to think about them right now. Not with you beside me. Not when we're so busy doing nothing.

It rained today, finally. With the coat you bought me wrapped around my body, I watched the last of the snow melt away into the frozen earth. The sprouts are already returning, and yesterday you brought home a flower and tucked it behind my ear. It's lost in my pillow now. I had never taken it out. A few stray petals are trapped in my hair, and it makes you laugh when they fall out. 'The Bearer of Spring' you like to call me now. And when you do, you laugh even more. It's infectious.

You sit outside, and I watch from the window. I can't see what you're doing, because your back is turned, but every now and then you move, and pick the small flowers that are growing around you. I wish I could sit there with you. But there is too much pollen in the air for me, and you don't want me sick.
But you don't stay out long, and soon you've returned with something cradled in your hands. And with the dumbest smile, you lay the daisy chain on my head. "I've brought the spring to you!"

The air is getting warmer now. I find myself no longer shivering, but for once I wish I was. At least then you could warm me. Now all I can do is lay here, sprawled out with my stomach exposed, wishing for even the slightest of breeze to come through. But as always, you seem unphased, and again, you take my hand.
I notice you smile a lot more now. More than when we first met. I wonder if it's the same for me. When I'm with you...it does feel easier to smile than to not. Your laughter, too, is infectious, so much so that holding it back hurts more than letting go. Even when you enter the room, I find it easier to get up to greet you, than to resist and stay in my seat. And I wish I knew where this magnetic attraction came from.
And I wish I could know...if you feel the same.

We sit together on an outdoor porch. Above us, whirling fans attached to simple wooden beams kick up the heavy summer air. Between us sits a small table, cups of shaved ice resting between our hands. Like always, you eat so eagerly, as if you've never tasted food before. Your lips and teeth are quickly stained blue and you pull faces at me until I laugh. Above us, the sun shines bright, and the fans and beams over our table provides barely any protection. But the heat I feel is no longer from the sun, nor the lack of wind blowing.
But from the sudden impulse I feel to paint my tongue and lips as blue as yours.

But was such a desire even okay? How much have I done for you? In all the months we've known each other, weren't you always the one carrying me? It must always be so hard for you. I'm not good at being happy. I'm not good at doing anything. But despite how often I lay there, you're always by my side to pull me back onto my feet and bring me back into the sunlight. And you have no reason to. At any moment, I know that you can leave. And I wonder if you feel obligated to be with me.
But I don't want you to feel obligated anymore. I want you to be here because you want to be.

So next time, when the leaves are starting to redden, and the wind is turning chilly, and the birds begin to cross the skies like they did that day... I'll the be the one to take your hand and pull you out to see it.
Because I love you.
And I want you to feel the same way I did, when I first fell in love with your smile.
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