Literature
The seasons change
I wanted to be seen as Sun itself, summer, sea, every thing that came with it, heat, breezy nights, vacation, street lights, love that comes once in a lifetime, but what's the purpose? But what's the purpose, when all you've got to see from me was autumn, Moon, coldness, sadness, wind, shallow libraries, mind full of books and stress and deception that it was love when it wasn't... I promise, there's that summer in me, the one you haven't seen. I know it. And only if you were more patient, only if I weren't so stuck in my own thoughts, you would've seen it too. But what's the purpose? What's the purpose if you can't love me at all my seasons, why would I let you love me at all? Why would I let you love me at only one? I am my summer and my autumn, winter and spring. Along with it, I am so much more. Blooming flowers, drying leaves, ice, heat. It's all mine. It's all a part of who I am. But seasons are complex. They want you to see, hear, feel. How can I explain it to you? How can I