a letter for September

Dear September

I have no idea how things ended on such a sorry note between us.

You showed great potential. You held the promise of fun-filled, activities-packed weekends.
I was eagerly anticipating our meeting, pregnant with hope of a lift from the doom and gloom that had become the norm.
A good distraction from the uninspiring weekdays at work.

We started off fine. Pretty well, actually.
Everything was going according to my plans.
I was a (rare) happy soul.

Even the infamous workdays were getting easier to handle.
Maybe the distraction proved successful.
Or it was the excitement of being given a new project at work.
Or that the long work hours had reduced my ability to think and feel as a human being, I was numb to pain and stress.

Whatever it was, I should have known better than to allow Expectations to take a free rein hike.

As the Wise and Old said that all good things must come to an end...
As Newton proved with his Law of Gravity that what goes up must come down...
As Cynicism warned that this is all too good to be true...
Disppointments followed Expectations.

And remember what the Englishmen learnt from living on land with such dreary weather?
It never rains but it pours.
Weekends after weekends of major letdowns.
Do you know I have since developed a fear of weekends?

Of course, to be fair, the time with you was not all a blanket of despair. Else I would have taken the Long Way DOWN.

O claimed the sweetest spot.
My intended frivolous fling with O turned serious.
It gave me much much more than what I asked for.
The attraction was irresistible. I was hooked.

And you know what?
I am glad October is now here to sweep me off my feet.
A respite from having to swim in your pool of lies and away from your sweet nothings.
Also, I have ditched Expectations. At least it prevents Disappointments from following.

I have learnt the hard way. But I learnt.

No regards, no love, no thanks
Jasmine