there is something so fulfilling about laying in bed at 8.51 pm with your legs throbbing and numb and knowing it’s because you walked. I walked from the school to the library , from the library to the field behind the track where we lay in the dormant grass , and from the field to dunkin . I love the fall.  I love walking . I love walking in the fall . especially at around 4.30 , when the sun is starting to sink below the horizon , off the give light to somewhere far more exotic than Ohio . I think it’s the air . the leaves , they smell like cinnamon and dirt and memories . or the grass . it tries to hold you up but bends ever so slightly with a defeated sounding crunch . the sky the clouds the sunsets the birds the life . it’s all so real . summer is unrealistically hot and winter is unrealistically cold . I think people are like seasons , sometimes . like , some people will lie to you so you don’t get hurt ; they are unrealistically warm to the touch and summer . other people are so honest it hurts ; they are unrealistically cold to the touch  and winter . and then , very rarely , you’ll find someone who is the perfect concoction of brutal honesty with a delivery so gentle you end up thanking them , not getting mad ; they are realistically cool to the touch, never quite able to get warm enough , right ? and they are autumn and they are you . you are not fall , you are autumn . autumn just sounds beautiful and amazing and perfect and real and so you that you would think it actually was you . maybe i’m over-romanticizing this season but if it’s sad that the best part of my day was shuffling through piles of leaves and turning my wind-blown face to the right to see his goofy-smiling , equally red face and drinking hot chocolate then you know what? I don’t ever want to be happy .