Today, I noticed the season change. The leaves have begun to wilt, lose their color, and crumble to the ground. They speed off as if some exotic destination awaits them; sadly, it is only death no matter their path. They will be piled, composted, and made to make new life for the next growing season.

The trees are left to repair, alone. Much like me, once again, repairing alone. My craft does suffer when I am with someone. My focus changes completely to this other person. I'm not certain why? Humans have always had trouble balancing, I was told recently. I suppose that is true. I cannot balance my love of another with my love of me. Perhaps, I do not love me as I should. If someone should love me, it should be me... right? I've got to find some path to tackling this great feat of self-worth. Another thing that has difficulty maintaining its balance.

So, fall remaking is upon me, and the bliss of a sun-kissed summer is leaving. The bliss of ignorant love is gone. Life will pale with my skin and sink into winter's grasp.

I do not know how I am to find solace in any of the current happenings.

I don't know what I'm doing... I am faithfully trying. Faithfully, failing. I am only trying to make it through this life.. trying to be a good person... trying to be someone, upon which, others can rely. I am only trying.

I don't know what I'm doing. Luckily, no one knows. Maybe, I'm not so alone as I've thought.