Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

The new year bringing even more depression. Will I be happy or sad this year?

 

My Winter’s Death

“It is the first few days of a new year, and I’m already depressed. I don’t make new year resolutions because they are a dream died before they were even born. I look at people who make one and within the first days of a new year they have broken them. A resolution is like a personal promise, and then that hope, is in ashes as life begins to fall to cancer. I’ve been depressed most of my life, make wounds with a knife, and been divorced before I even proposed to any future wife. Like a drug picking the perfect day to finally work. I have no future of this year, because like winter, it’s going to be so fucking cold….”

It didn’t take long to meet someone in winter. Her love is like a bird and everything flies like one passionate word. When the snow falls white, it is autumn falling like dead leaves. Holding her hand, I am a tree, breathing life into a wooden puppet. Could it be that my depression is leaving me? Nothing lasts forever as her strong hand becomes weak. Leaving me to water flowers alone. The winter is falling outside, but the ocean of her eyes is drowning our love’s departure. Her love is now winter without the snow, the suicide of the rose.

I see her life-on-life support and the unforgiving winter gives no support. When the snow fell that was our love when the turning seasons were within us. Her eyes are braindead because they cannot function to see me this time. I am the stars leaking out of their light when the snow departs into spring. I feel her love no more so my girlfriend now is a razorblade. The snowmen of winter melt instead of building a white night fantasy for three months. Depression prepping me for murder because I don’t want to feel depressed anymore. I kill her now so that our love can lose its breath, in My Winter’s Death.

My Spring’s Suicide

“In the three months of a depressive winter, I killed a woman instead of making a road on my wrists. Love is not happiness because I wasn’t in it for long. Now spring and this is meant to be the season where everything grows. I disagree with that because nothing is growing in my life. Personally, it feels like autumn, because the falling leaves of drugs are the portrait of my body. I don’t know if I will survive spring….”

The snow of white departed, and into spring forced a new season to be started. My love has been gone for weeks keeping a picture missing from the frame. I once had a heart that was a snow globe with winter inside. When she shook my heart, love was the white winter. Winter did not last long because her life faded like a black and white rainbow. When I’m depressed, I think about her death because it gives me a reason to live. I now sleep alone and the air has become even colder. I hold a knife in my hands and I will make dinner on my own skin. My skin touching the blade of the knife, I am forfeiting my own life.

And now in spring flowers and leaves grow in the season that is meant to bring. My lungs feel like trees without the breathing. They feel like that there is no life inside. The closest thing to a flower growing in spring is the knife I hold. I carve flowerbeds on my wrist and so much blood is bleeding from the rose. I cut deep and deep but it is not enough to put me asleep. I see a vein and it is like a broken string on an instrument. I don’t know if I want to cut it because my life sounds out of tune. The blood is creating a rainbow that is not made from rain and sun.

Spring is a season where nothing shows, and I am the decaying rose that shows. I feel like autumn because my blood is pouring from the tree it knew. I feel no tears mourn for me as the roof of my home is scaring away clouds. I think I will bleed to death so I drop the kind knife. I didn’t cut a vein so I think my prediction of death is wrong. If I’m not dead in the next ten minutes, cutting a vein will bring the rain quicker.

My front door opens without wind, spring being kind as something actually grew. A beautiful young woman that I have secretly been in love with. She knows that I am always depressed. She checks on me because she knows that I hate living. Everyone thinks that my former lover died without suspicion, but that is not the case. I made her drink poison at knife point. But this woman, she just knows when to check on me. She recklessly saved my wounds in time, becoming the touch of a hospital. I now live-in spring so my death now hides, I failed My Spring’s Suicide.

My Summer’s Sanctuary

“Now into the warmest season of all, and I’m wondering if my life will fall. She stayed with me because she feels that my life can be saved. I don’t know if I can give up depression for love. I’ve been taking less pills and drugs, and they work as slow as a slug. I haven’t been suicidal but the season of summer does not keep me warm. We fuck a lot and it feels like I’m injecting her depression. I just hope that I don’t fuck everything up here….”

Months after a failed suicide of spring, summer is here with light to bring. My skin is still bruised from my failed wounds. I no longer play the violin by composing music on my veins. My body is bruised from the suicide of spring that never took my life. Summer decides to give me one more chance, not realising that I hate the fucking sun. My heart feels like the sun, trapped in the ribcage of my city. I wish it were the moon instead because I want to walk on something cold and circular.

She came into my life like a flower, healing me with her power. She’s like the first person to walk on my moon. Stepping in love when her face is the light of the missing stars. Her face is a forest burning, our love the death of everything when the fire spreads. She saved me from suicide, and Romeo and Juliet are still alive. My blood was swimming in death and then she made sure that I could not drown. In the outside world we see the sun burning, but it still doesn’t melt the depression inside.

She became the remedy and the potion while I became the blue ocean. For the first time in life, I appreciated seeing a rainbow. I appreciated everything in their natural beauty. It was because of her warmth. She took it from the sun and for a moment I was living in a heatwave. But the fire goes out when you still feel the grey of depression. I will be the reason why the rainbow fades because I’m still attracted to razorblades.

Love doesn’t last long with me because like the seasons it can change after three months. Through the summer she is still here crying the mortal tears of the earth. In a few days it is autumn, the season of permanent endings. There is not much love left between us but I can’t let her go. It’s her fault why I am feeling like this again. I still grieve over the love that I killed in winter and the lost white. In a few days, the sun will set in my body and never rise again. The last days I will enjoy love over death, and where the sun will be here instead of the moon. She made the sun planetary, I thank My Summer’s Sanctuary.

My Autumn’s Ashes

“The first day of autumn and this is the season where things die. I always wonder why Christmas is in autumn because there is no happiness in seeing things die. She is still with me but our love died sometime in summer. I don’t know if I should make her happy or sad. I don’t know if I should make myself happy or sad….”

On autumn’s first day the earth fell dead when a wasteland visited. Trees stopped breathing due to the cancer of summer and are now left boneless. Their leaves falling like youthful skin that will leave the face of an old man. Bare trees mirage a human body and are both so fragile. Flowers stopped being the transportation for butterflies and venomous bees. Their petals falling like youthful makeup to leave women in old age. Bare flowers mirage a human body, the middle finger to all life. Beautiful pieces of life falling the ashes of autumn stalling.

The seasons have been nature inside me, now ashes in autumn’s tree. Nothing can help us now so I lock the doors to keep the screaming between love only. I will not cut myself a safe suicide because blood can always get infected. The first day of autumn leaves no summer in my heart for lighter days. I look at her nameless face and my heart is smoking away her name. The building containing her humanity will be in smoke today.

Like ash my tears fall crying because in my autumn arms she is doing her best escape of dying. Her lungs are like pyramids where the breathing of sand has been replaced by plagues. I don’t allow her to escape because we will both die in my depression. I sit like her gravestone while she lies like the coffin ready for earth. Whispering in her ears that I’m helping her die, I’ll go with her before I cry.

I tie her with rope and us and suicide have become our only hope. Sitting in a chair with a gag in her mouth is a human surrender. The white gag in her mouth is a white flag placed on the moon of her face. She is a balloon breathing, caught by the air of death that awaits. I sit with her and this is our last happy moment. I pour petrol all over us, fuelling our journey to drive Death’s road. I light the flame and our bodies become a romantic cremation. Becoming too warm even a final kiss is more dangerous than the fire. There is no final kiss as I see the fire burn her eye lashes, becoming My Autumn’s Ashes.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn © 2021 Dexter Angelus Draven. All rights reserved.

 

 

 


Submitted: January 05, 2021

© Copyright 2021 TheGothicUndying. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Leo'cadia Kavhayi

Its beautiful

Wed, January 6th, 2021 5:05am

Author
Reply

Thank you for reading!

Sat, January 16th, 2021 3:14pm

BriannasBooks

I love the perspective of depression through each season, and especially how it started out with winter. Winter seems to be the darkest season for many people. Spring and summer tend to be less miserable as it warms up outside and the days get longer, and I like how you showed all the ways it can still be depressing, even if the character has a new love. Then autumn comes around, and everything changes for the worst once again. Your poetic style really brought out the emotions in this story and was incredibly realistic in showing how depression feels. Well done as usual! :)

Sat, January 9th, 2021 3:44pm

Author
Reply

I know technically winter is the last season of the year, but it is also the first season of the year. It is the darkest season, because so many people get depressed, and the suicide rate is sky high during winter. I think its realistic to show that the happiness in the world does not cure depression. I love your comments, and that you always read my work. Ill do the same for you. Thanks Brianna ;)

Sat, January 16th, 2021 3:18pm

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