icarus_chained: lurid original bookcover for fantomas, cropped (Fairytale)
Ah feck. I never realise this until I'm in the middle of it. I get sort of ... odd for a bit in autumn. Euphoric? I just get odd this time of year.

I say it's my favourite season. It is. It's just ... everything feels more in autumn. It's a kind of sensory overload for me. Everything feels thin and sharp and intense, all red and silver, thin pearly skies, grey rain, thin bare branches and red leaves. Everything feels like it's going to be gone soon. It's like a tugging sensation, grabbing you and tweaking on the line until you follow it out. The days get shorter. It feels like a countdown. I want to be out, to be there, to be present. I want to see the leaves and the silver-grey skies. I want to watch red sunsets. I want to see misty moonrises. I get this sweeping sensation, this thing picking me up and tugging, tugging, tugging. Autumn is red and silver, fast and hollow and running away from you, thin and sharp and too far away to reach. Everything feels needy and grabby, have this now because it's going soon, a whirl of things to get swept up in.

I get odd this time of year. Wilder than I normally am, odd like I've got a hole in my chest with a fishing line running out of it. It's my favourite, but it's so hard. Winter's nearly a relief. I go to sleep again in winter. I get to relax. Autumn is this frantic feast of a thing.

I never remember this until it happens. Every damn year. Feck it.
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icarus_chained: lurid original bookcover for fantomas, cropped (Default)
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