Valentine's Project

Febuary 5

Febuary 5

Past

The orange leaves nestled gently onto the ground. The top of the trees were ablaze with red and orange, the cool, calming green nowhere in sight. I walked gently on, pulling my coat closer to my body. I shuddered as another gust of wind bit into my exposed face. I cursed to myself and trudged on. Winter was coming, the cold was evident, but life itself seem desperate to be felt for perhaps the last time. It hung on to its last grasps, pulling at invisible handholds while trying to claw their way desperately back. Its seeds hung from trees, the last hope of many, waiting for the passing of the worst to reclaim life lost. The leaves, burst themselves forth into a shower of colours, the last gasp of a dying creature. Paying its respects, the leaves venture onwards, following the many who had, like them, followed the path of self destruction. Although life was strong, the battle was one that could never be overcame by anyone. I exited the park and made a dash for my house. Reaching for the front door, I fumbled for my keys and made my way inside. The house was like an empty shell, many of the rooms looked as if they were gutted out and replaced with the bare minimum of furniture for the room to barely resemble what it supposed to be. Taking out a canned drink, I settled down on my worn sofa in front of the heater and switched on the television. The shows were of little importance nor effect so I found myself, laying down on my sofa, flicking through the channels impatiently. Finally giving in to the fact of modern day idiocy and inconsequence, I switched of the television and closed my eyes. Life was not as most people say a bliss. The last few years had bore down on me and taken its effect. The lines upon my face dug deeper upon my skin and became more and more visible. The bright and optimistic face that once graced this face had faded into obscurity. Most of all, my body had finally expended the last glimmers of youth and finally the weight of age took its slow toll on me. I sighed. Dreams of the past frequently float through my mind. Dreams of reality, not the bleak reality that could only be seem as a dreary routine. I could only wish for the past to be the present, and the present the past.