...

I just remember the autumn breeze and the way the leaves crunched under our feet. I found that one leaf that was massive and pinned it to my bulletin board before we finally collapsed in my room. You said I was weird.

Maybe it meant something when that leaf finally crumbled away and fell to the floor. I mean, it probably meant everything.

I think that I probably live my life like that. I bloom in the spring, I manage to look and smell pretty. And then I level out in the summer, when we lay on sand covered beach towels, soaking up the sun and I stop bothering to even try and untangle my hair, or your arms from my waist.

But when fall comes I crash. And I crash hard. By winter I've turned to dust and I know I have a hell of a long time until I even exist again. And by then I will no longer be pinned to your heart. I'll have crumbled away and the tiny pinhole I left there will have already healed over.

I guess you were right, I am weird. Or at least I feel that way since I've realized I have no permanence.