Autumn : End

2013,

Jan 1st.

As much as I hoped that you were warm and temperate, but I guess I've expected too much from you.
You're decaying from me, exactly like how the autumn leaves wither from it's parent tree.

I left, went through the frigid winter on my own. Misery was pretty much my soup of the day.


And now, I move forward, with all the might that I could muster, without any hesitation or confusion. No looking back.


Farewell.