The word autumn comes from the ancient Etruscan root autu, and has within it connotations of a passing year. Then the Romans melded it into autumnus and we got the word autumn from it. Rake away the simple yet ancient origin of the word and you’re left with a season glowing in a diversified spectrum of orange. As the days start to get shorter, the nights tend to get longer, the light breeze flows across your face as you feel like you belong in a L’Oreal commercial. The air feels thin, the environment feels light, just when you start to enjoy the drop in the Celsius, the viral flu smacks you down.
The lofty nature of the freshly baked pies, the rich aroma of your strong black coffee makes up your perfect breakfast. You spend your day reminiscing the childhood Halloween parties, as the evening welcomes you with magnificent sunsets.
As the day gets dark, you return to your empty home. You realize that you live alone, thousands of miles away from your forsaken family. A family who hasn’t been in contact with you for months, yet the months feel like decades and their nonexistent souls are the now the ghouls in your head implanting destructive thoughts.
You’re fucked up and you know it, the outside world fails to recognize your state as you keep on faking happiness day in day out. You have lost your sense of belief, you have had enough of this sickening world and seemingly perfect life of people. All you need is a person to open up to, the people you call friends, are merely a bunch of slithering snakes. The girl you fell in love with, left you for a rich guy, who has a better car and a better house, not knowing she missed out on those sweet memories and the apparently fading concept of love.
You feel worthless, depressed and worn out. You start to wonder if there’s a way out for you, a hypothetical sanctuary where you can enjoy sympathy and relief. An outer dimension where people don’t judge you for the way you look. A valley between the mountains where no knows you, a place to find inner peace.
The meandering nature of this season is like that thorn, which spikes you when you reach out for that beautiful rose. Your deceptive mind tries to convince you to hang yourself, end this misery once and for all. Those pies, parties, hot cups of espresso seem nauseous. You have understood that this cruel world has failed to comprehend that, you indeed need of desperate attention. The world tells you to calm down, “this depression, this loneliness, it’s all inside your head”. Your social feed paints you heaven which only ignites jealousy and desperation.
You wear your trench coat and embrace the rainy afternoon, this is the moment when you can cry and no one will notice your tears. You hit those late night clubs in order to and feel alive, your heart aches of sorrow as you stand idle in the hyperactive environment of ravers. Your blood gushes as you surround yourself with people you know, failing to communicate, to transfer your feelings. This agony eats you alive, you lose your appetite and turn to drugs and alcohol.
You start portraying a dual personality, one of them is a successful office worker, who is well set for his future and the other is the depressed low functioning sociopath who is on the brink of suicide. This time of year has stolen all the colours in your life. It’s only going to get worse as the dark cold nights will soon petrify your problems. The rich blue skies, the carroty leaves, the fresh breeze, you start to curse them all.
There is no escaping this pain, so you accept it for a distant hope for sanity. Hope to nullify your issues, to have a shoulder to cry on, hope that your family generates some sort of affection for you. This very hope composes you enough to sleep and ride this rollercoaster of pain on a weekly basis.
This autumn time is the beginning of the end, end for either your suffering or your will to live.