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Summer is gone (The Man writes)
Oct-27-2008 A hot Summer night, a wet Summer beach, a clear Summer sky. Try as we might to prolong the "Summer season," at one point it has to end. At one point, your perfect time with Summer gets interrupted by thunder, lightning and rain. And even if the rains end and the next day begins bright and warm to remind you of the fun you had, it's never the same. It's never the same Summer you have known that season. Seasons change. Summer will inevitably drift away. Summer tells us a lot of things. How life can be good if you live for the moment, if you be the moment. How the worst memories are only memories that need to be forgotten, while the best has to be preserved. But Summer made me realize a lot of things as well. How the moment, and only the moment, is good. How memories, both good and bad, are only memories. No matter what I do, Summer will only be a season. Not because she is, but because I see her as such. And try as I might to prolong my hold on Summer, one thing remains the same: it's almost Christmas. And there is not a snowball's chance in hell that Christmas will still be Summer, or that Summer will be Christmas. Summer will never be Christmas. Not because she isn't, but simply because I can never see her as such. Whatever I will do tomorrow, one thing remains the same: Summer is gone. The season must change once more. But I'm tired. Tired of the meaningless change that only cycles back to the start of the year, where seasons end as another begins. I can never be Sisyphus. I can never be happy in the struggle itself. Not because it is a struggle, but precisely because I never see it as a struggle. How can it be love when I never meant to fall? How can it be hard when it was never hard at all? I'm tired of the changing seasons; it's time for a season of change. And that is how Summer left me, and yet the struggle makes me happy. |
