september* is a playa. september can be warm and golden, hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. september will make you feel the promise of warm and glorious days to come that you can almost believe in. but all along, the angle of the sun tells you that we're all gonna die. alone. in the not too distant future. most likely slowly and in considerable pain.
by october, you're past it. you know what's what and you look at life with the kind of blasé world-weariness that thinks leaves on trees are for soft assholes who can't handle reality. by october, any bit of sunlit lies you get, you take, because why not, but you're not buying any of it, oh no. by october, you've moved past it. by october, it's likely you've picked out a nice shiny urn for yourself.
and then winter comes (possibly by the middle of october**) and it's all good. by winter, the worst has happened, and if there's one thing i've learned in life is that having the worst happen can be a madly freeing experience: it releases you back into the world of the living, a world where hope can put down roots again. by winter, all is white, and calm, and cool, and you know that spring will come... eventually, which is something one can hope for with impunity.
*for those of you living in more normal climates, feel free to substitute october or november in here. in alberta, september is fall. i know i have told you before that in polish the word for november can be roughly translated to "the month in which leaves fall" but in alberta we think that's the funniest thing ever - we laugh, and laugh, until tears are streaming down our faces, and then we realise we weren't really laughing at all. na-huh.
**yes, that's the kind of life we live. we're tough. very tough. don't fuck with us.