I find myself stuck in a weird moment of my life.

Half my peers are engaging, moving in with partners, having babies, travelling the world – yet here I am, writing blog posts at 2am that a handful of people read at any given time…

Autumn. It’s the early hours post-turning a quarter of a century. With two elder sisters, my younger self always assumed by the time you’re in your mid-twenties you have it all figured out and your life is just dandy. Well, I can safely say that I still hold the mentality of my younger years. I get grouchy if I need sleep and short tempered when I need feeding.

Three months ago I endured my first break-up. Lame, you may scoff but my life has been blown wide open at the moment. It’s both exciting and terrifying, mostly the latter I’m not going to lie especially when the sun goes down. The weirdest notion is not knowing what is ahead. Six months ago, I thought I was one of the lucky ones, I had found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my days with. I was wrong then. Now, I still have no idea what is ahead of me. So I dip my toes with slight trepidation.

I’ve grown these past three months more than I did the past two years. I learnt it’s okay to not be okay. That it’s perfectly fine to not have it all figured out. That sometimes we hurt ourselves the most because we lie to ourselves out of insecurity and fear to break free. That when it comes down to it, you really only can count on yourself. Everyone lets you down. Everyone. You’ve simply got to learn to cheer for yourself. I learnt that love is stupid, makes us into fools, yet we blindly follow it and easily fall back into it. Why? I’m still figuring that one out, whether it’s really love or just lust. Lust pedalled by the advertising industry pushing an idealistic, unattainable, illogical mostly destructive addiction onto us.

It’s so easy to be hardened by pain and the world in general. But it’s not advised. I refuse to let past experiences make me less of a person. I’ve always given my all, felt too much, loved openly and strongly. To change any of those would change essential parts of me and not a single damn person is worth that. My main vital organ is off limits for the foreseeable future but that doesn’t mean it will be that way forever. You’d hope at least. I guess you could say I’m more cynical at times but I think that’s more the process of ageing.

Most of all, I’ve learnt to let go of expectations. I’ve never been one for planning ahead, I’m even more so adverse now. Just taking things as they come with invariable pinches of salt.

Words: Radhika Mary

Seasons of change

Autumn is melancholic. It signals the death of nature in the most beautiful colours, with one last burst of vibrance. That’s why I like autumn. The natural world around us shows its temporal existence. Nothing lasts forever. Perhaps it’s that engrained sense of loss within that feels at home in autumn since childhood.

This is the season of truth.

Loyal to melancholy’s disposition, autumn is a paradox. Beautifying death, adorning nature with it’s make-up of colours. Preserving it in memory, like a heart wrenching funeral.

Autumn is chaos. The season of change. It’s odd for a person so scared of change to feel so comfortable in this season of transition. After all change can be a good thing, I have resolved to tackle my fear head on, hoping the wind favours my direction and sailing ahead.

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird, I would fly about the Earth seeking successive autumns.” – George Elliot

Words & Photography: Radhika Mary