The two of us are much like the seasons: always changing yet ever-so-predictable. We met after a particularly dark period of my life, and I felt newly awakened. You came to me in the spring. The frigid harshness winter had to offer was slowly melting away to allow the birth of new life. This was the beginning of everything. It was slow at first, because nature simply just does not allow for summer to grace the land immediately following winter. Spring is nestled between to softly transition from darkness to light, and that is where we were. We had to abandon the obligatory politeness held in the air of strangers in order for summer to wake, which we quickly realised. Summer came faster than anyone could have possibly anticipated, and that was the best time of my life. Tensions relaxed, we depended on each other as the world depends on the sun. Light and fun, the only possible way to describe that period of my life is by comparing it to July fireworks. Whizzing off into every possible direction, the organised chaos set me free. You made me forget about the winter and that sort of ignorance was all I could ever ask from you.

But then came autumn.

Like the leaves, you fell. And so did I.

The two of us were too caught up in the summer heat to remember that everything has an end, and autumn was just a cruel reminder. Hope quickly fizzled.

It is winter now, and I’ve come full circle. I’m back where I was before last spring, though perhaps even worse so than before. After finally getting a taste of what it’s like to be alive, winter only ends in disappointment. I have barely spoken a word to you since summer fell, and the rare exchanges between us are once again that of strangers’. As the days go on, it only gets colder and colder and the nights become longer and longer. The weight of it is enough to crush me, but one thought — one thought only — keeps me going:

Spring will come.