October.

The brightness of the sun, shining through the window on this candescent harvest day blinds me as my eyes open wearily. I find contentment with mornings like these. For an instant I forget all stress, all annoyance, all pain and breathe in that autumn smell of foliage and firewood. A light breeze enters the room lazily, lingering. I kick off my sheets to feel its soft touch upon my legs. “A bit cold,” I think to myself, but I don’t mind it. There’s something to say about October. I don’t know if it’s because in October Fall shows its colors, brighter than any other month, or if it’s the spirit of Halloween, but there’s something magical about October, something surreal. I can’t really explain it. And it is mornings like these that really surround me with that feeling. And this feeling only increases throughout the day. It seems to even heighten more when the moon peaks her bright red face out from behind Horizon’s silhouette. There’s something to say about October’s Moon as well. It feels, almost as if her gravitational force is pulling at me, making me feel light, even buoyant, like I could jump and never touch the ground again. Of course, the gravitational force of the moon is the same now as it is at any other time during the year, yet it’s still enchanting. I remember when I was younger I would believe that the moon was quietly talking to me, through her colors, through her beatific face. Each night I’d look up to her, hoping for something. I never knew what it was I was looking for. For some reason, though, my eyes, my head involuntarily tilted towards the sky. And in this vision I felt a surge of power rush through me like water races through a straw, abounding and swift. And even now the 11 year old inside of me still feels exceedingly powerful whenever I see that Moon.

The process of thought.

I've made mistakes numerous times in my life. Sometimes minute, sometimes great. Regret is something I don't like to admit to, but I find myself doing so on occasion. It's funny. I look at the past and wonder where the hell the time went. I look at the future and wonder if it'll ever be as good. Maybe I have a nostalgic view of how it "used to be." I wish I could understand it. I wish i can grasp it, pull it into my chest and hold on tight. Never let go. But there's a reason why they associate "time" with sand. It slips right through your fingers. You can't even feel it, until your hand's empty.

Someone I know very well told me the other day that he's realized one thing. Life's not about your past, it's not about making a future, it's about being around the people who make you smile, who make you laugh, who make you love. And I've realized that's it. It's about BEING. Just being. Because being is present. And the people you love who are present with you are all that really matter.

So in that aspect, I shouldn't regret a thing. Nor should I really worry about what's going to happen... because it's going to happen no matter what I do.

Clumsy.

And I'll grab hold of the wall before I walk out of the light, 'cause I'm not the falling type, no i'm not the falling type.

Wondering if this is ironic advice hidden deep within my subconscious.