Cold Breezes

i love the feeling of an autumn breeze across my skin, it's the sensation of the seasons maturing. many people seem to feel that winter is another year dying, i think it is another year realizing it's age. i suppose that is depressing or enlightening, depending on which level of the glass you fancy. i love being inside when the sky is dark and crying. to know that i am warm within, to be safely kept in an oasis from the storm...

that is until i become anxious and have to be let out again...

what is it to be simple? what is it to be complicated? they say men are simple, women complicated, but what does that mean? what qualifies "them" to make such an assumption? are we born with a set amount of questions to solve before we die? is that our catalyst or our quest in life? if fate is real, than the answer to that is yes, if not, we are provoked by life to ask and be asked. i like the thought of being provoked. only when one is does one's true personality come out. i think how you react in heightened passions is how you really are and i wouldn't be surprised if that is an already documented theory.