The end of September

I often dream of being the wheel which turns my emotions, like an ox cart that rolls wherever I push it. Sadly, I can only control my emotions as well as I can control whether the garden has wind or rain. Since the sweet sun rolled through August and into the end hours of September, I have felt as if I am easily mad and quick to react to those who share the same space as me. I am my own island, my own private sail boat, and each person is a twenty foot tall wave ready to put me in the water. They don't even know it, but I know it, and it can be exhausting swimming upstream as I try to keep myself to myself. I look outside and the world is covered in Autumn's tale of...