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25.4.2024 20:41
I initially had darker thoughts when I wrote my first piece of poetry. Over a decade later, I have finally found the courage to share it with the world.


I hope this letter finds you and finds you well.

Despite the world we are living in, the saying: you either get busy living or get busy dying doesn’t really work for me anymore. Maybe life just isn’t for everyone. Just like when the leaves change their hue from the beautiful, radiant green tint they once were to the depressing, comfortable, maroon colour that nature permits them to be, I too have lost motivation to persist on in life.

I too, have lost my colour and are hanging on to the branches before the inevitable fall.

It’s not an analogy between the leaves and I, but more often so that I feel indifferent to other people. In our current society, none of us stands out anymore. Everybody is a copy of another copy. It’s depressing to live in such a world where the stupid and moronic are praised, and the people who do not conform are regarded as weird outcasts and ostracised into the eternal echoes of loneliness. Maybe when the leaves fall off the tree, sometimes... it’s better to let go than to control it.

Let the wind from the cool autumn breeze run through your hair. You look around yourself, and the weather feels a little more comfortable. The air is not as crisp, and the sunlight caresses your skin perfectly through the gentle atmosphere. The serenity and calmness are almost surreal. The delicate rivulets of water along the side of the streets, flowing ever so gracefully as the wind pushes it. The soft melodies of the autumn birds chirping away. Everything seems so perfect and yet, everything doesn’t. Another word for autumn would befall, and this is where I’m coming from. Just like the season of fall, I too have fallen off the world tree that is society and have landed upon the mass graves at the bottom of it, being indifferent, being indistinguishable from the rest of the horde. What I wish was that I could at least have some significance in helping the tree survive before I make my departure. Maybe there was some way, or somehow, I could have made a difference.

This is all very new to me—this experience of departure towards another step. Winter

will follow after autumn and thus, concluding a new episode to my life. Could it be possible for me to live as I have once lived before or should I be damned to suffer and fade away like all the other departing leaves?

Some trees survive through autumn and also make their way through the harsh conditions of winter. Maybe, if the world was a different place, a different world tree of sorts, perhaps humanity could survive through this could harsh place which we call our home planet.

I hope this letter reaches you and tells you my feelings. I am sure you are doing well, and I wish you the best in your future endeavours. Never be the indistinguishable leaf like I am and embrace the future with open arms in the autumn breeze, Forever and always.

Me to you

If you like what you've just read, you'll find a collection of short stories and poetry, including "Seasons," in my latest work, "Bedtime Stories for the Ill".