Autumn slips out quietly, almost pretending it was never here. Winter steps in without hesitation, sharp and honest, clearing the noise and leaving only what’s real.
I’m not rushing through this shift — I’m meeting it head-on.
There’s something grounding about watching endings and beginnings breathe in the same air.
The cold says the things I’ve avoided.
Change isn’t gentle, but it’s mine. And I’m staying right here to see what grows next.
