Carooh, Caraah!

I am astonished with this world, how does this creeping cold arrive so soon and accompany such despondency? These colorful days of fox red leaves, charismatic orange trees, crisp white frosts hugging onto the contours of the dying trees in the morning, chubby white and grey clouds that skitter and amble across the horizon.
I have missed the moon, those meandering nimbulus clouds leave her hidden and shyer than usual. Why do i adore her? Why do i love half the things I do? Perhaps i recognize a kindred, bashful spirit who would rather remain in the sky large and omniscient, never missing a moment of the love that traps the only sanity left on this earth. That and cellos. Those are incredibly sane instruments. Sorry if this seems dreary just because of this chilly, more than a light coat weather i have been locked inside.
I miss the sun. Well he is still around just not with the same intensity from that lovely tilting of our earth. Yesterday as i walked in that falling sunlight, dressed in my grandmothers Scottish woolen sweater that is heavy, itchy and as orange as a lingering fall sunset, i felt that that nippy winterish breezy coming in through the holes of my grandmothers cadmium orange sweater. Me, Atticus and the leaves all were in matching fall attire of all shades of orange and in my heart i pledged my affection to those last remaining beams of sun.
And here i go i would like to pledge my adoration to things of an orange nature:
1. Atticus in his rusty fur coat and with his lighter orange eyes that smile and wink at me underneath expressive doggy eyebrows
2. All red heads, true beauties
3. Pumpkin pie. There is nothing more nutmeg and cinnamon perfect than a large slice of pumpkin pie with a dollop of the fluffiest whipped cream resting on top. Heidi Daniel truly knows how to make heaven in a pie.
4. Pumpkins the originators of all delicious fall foods that rest with jack o' lantern grins on my front porch grinning at me and all passer bys, what lovely bearers of Halloweentide
5. Whenever the color orange is cheerfully reflected from anywhere in the world on a mountain top, from a geranium or marigold, a warm grandmothers sweater, and in the eye of the fire where the warmest flickers of heat are
6. The emotion that accompanies orange, like when my friends smile their sincerest smiles at me, or when i get a true wave back from a certain boy. The color rests within me and accompanies all of Falls affection
7. Sea sponges
8. Not oompa loompas i hate those, i despise those, even more i fear those.
9. And the way that orange and red trees adorn our encircling mountains flaring up their sides with the final goodbyes and bursts of life from our friends the trees.

Sorry Taylor i know you detest the color of orange but it was just one of those days where i just could not deny my true love for the warmth and charisma of orange.

Despondency to Awakening

Though the thought of this terrifies I am going to tell about my insides. About the tumultuous track my heart beats when it reviews certain embarrassing, or wistful moments, or how my stomach growls when it thinks of long fast sundays but the beautiful moments that came with the clarification, about role models that my brain reveres and loves along with my silly heart for the two walk a measured, yet uncontrolled path, hand in hand. Now that we are moving past that odd image.
I used to feel settled. The perfect way to describe it is that i felt like a peach, warm, round, and fuzzy. I was strong, yet patient, I could handle a few more things than at the moment I'm finding I can. This me, the peachy me, usually exists in the summer, I can curl up in the delighted sunshine and read for my own enjoyment (any reading is a joy, whether for by my own choice or not) I can swim, powerfully, slicing through silky, cold green water (for it is never that picturesque blue, Utah water is always green, a little murky) breathing pleased breaths out my mouth while laughing with every wave that laps into my mouth. I lay with friends in the basking of stars eyes, glorifying something larger than a moment, but a light year, maybe more. I am content then.
School soon arrives, and i am swept in cheerful hellos of new subjects and old friends. But it begins to wear on me, boys arrive again, they stay pretty sparse in the summers, and soon rededicate my mind to them. This year, something happened. No, I cannot explain it, but in the time it took for me to spin from Tanner to Taylon, I was lost. Hopelessly so. Yes, other events transferred in that time period as well, but, those days feel like an odd black hole. That black hole ate me, well parts of me, maybe just a limb and an eye. In those few days that it took, a storm that had been gathering burst forth, rocking and heaving me about on its betraying winds, winds which blow resentment, anger, impatience, easy to frustration, sadness. My landscape used to be a soft morning, curved around the edges, not expecting to much from the day except a few flittering crows and a cloud skittering across the horizon. My unambitious expectations were wrong. And so a storm weathers away at the walls of my ribs, waves that had serenely lay, now bubble and churn in unrest. And I am different. I'm sorry if my eyes have cast daggers at you, they are doing so not at your own doing but at my own weakness. I have lost my pledge, I'm looking for it, if found please return. I stopped certain things during this storm, like I said I lost a limb and an eye.

Now, I spend much to much time glancing over my shoulder, looking for her. I even wrote that in my journal, "I found her", but that is not the point of a storm, if you build your (after a hurricane) in the exact style of the original then the next brewing storm that blows through will tear down those cookie cutter walls, and destroy yet again, the shelter. So though I wish for my placid rising sun, I ned to rebuild my walls in a new manner, stronger than before, put in bricks of patience, compassion, love, promise of a new morning. This house will be more grand indeed, but now it is under construction, do not look to closely yet, it is very rough around the edges none to pretty, for i am trying to build up that foundation, those skeleton walls. Soon it will be done, I hope so but I know I cannot construct a home for myself on my own, so i will have to throw away pride, and ask for help. Help always comes unexpectedly, and from obscure hands, but those hands are guided by something greater. For now I am caught in an almost quiet night, but a peek of sunlight will be coming soon, over that horizon over there and I will always keep my eye level with it, never glancing away, also that means that I still have time to build and improve.