You have four variant and unlike seasons. Each one has its own color, its own glamour, yet certainly its downsides. 

 

First comes winter, with the peaceful sound of the raindrops, the loud noises of the keening winds, the terrifying fledged thunderstorms and the pureness of the snow's whiteness. 

 

Spring appears with beams of light, each beam presents a ray of hope. Every flower blooms and dyes its leaves with a vibrant and a distinctive color, unleashing the savoring scents of the different flowers, orchid and roses. 

 

Summer then furnishes the world with its cozy warmth, the morning's moderate breeze running through the windows, colliding with the standing walls, reviving every living creature. 

 

Lastly, Autumn is there to take away the allurements and beauty of the scenic and landscapes, letting the dark brown of the dead blades substitute the green foliage, as a breath of air blows with a scent of humid soil. 

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She has been haunted by her memories, bitter and grievous ones. Every night she strides toward her bed with trepidation, distress and dread of what might come up next. As soon as her smooth cheeks meet the cushion, she feels her stomach grumbles in panic, her guts push the folds inside, making her restless while she is supposed to be convenient. She is terrified of contracting her eyelids, of the black scene which will appear instantly, of her brain opening folders that shouldn't be opened after months. She is not ready for another night, she does not want to risk her barely healed wounds, but it has never been by her hands, anyway. 

 

What has she done wrong. What is her blunder. She always thinks before giving up and turning herself over to doziness. 

Son Naeun, in her teenage years. How she hates those few years of her life. She remembers she used to wake up early in the morning, excited about her day. Now she does not want to wake up, although she fears sleep and as much as she apprehends it, she wishes she would not wake up the next morning. What is the advantage of life, after all? What new will happen? It is always the same routine of her life. She wakes up and remembers her past, she feels her heart break into the smallest pieces than it already has broken, and she swallows back the thick and uncomfortable limp in , blinking away her hot tears as her days go on. Nothing will be new, even if she meets new people, even if new events occur, it will be nothing to her. Her life meant nothing, basically. 

 

They say when you hold onto something so firm, it will part away from you. But as long as it is yours, you will undoubtedly find the diverged paths and slope them into one. 

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She heaved a sigh, a sigh full of pain and sorrowful respiration, full of profound grieves and brute hopes. She rubbed the drowsiness away using the back of her hand against her delicate eyelid as a flow of exhale escaped the narrow gap between her thin, pinkish lips as a yawn. Leaning her back against the headboard of her double bed, she stared calmly and serenely at the white, meters away ceilings. Suddenly and subconsciously, a stream of pictures flashed, pictures of precious and previous moments she had lived last year, colorful as they seemed, happy and bright pictures, only smiles and grins could appear, filled with true affection and genuine love, breathtaking stares and satisfaction. That was when life meant something. Then, her heart gave a tight squeeze and shrunk tightly in her chest to all of a sudden explode and liberate the blood in her body. She felt how her thoracic cavity's breadth became cramped with each inhale she had to accept in, and how it left her heart break into the irreparable fractions the shrinking caused. Well, she was already used to it since it was only another arduous morning. What was new.

 

Her slender digits reached out to the rims of her fragile blanket and she gently pulled it off her, shifting slowly and agonizingly in her bed, trying to approach the cold floor of her room. She unwieldy gathered some of the strength her body managed to generate and got herself out of bed. She barely steadied herself, stayed still in her place, motionless. She was afraid of moving an inch, she was afraid of reliving the same exact damned day of her life. Why didn't she just sleep forever? Why did she have to open her eyes to the cruel, unbearable and intolerable reality? Though, dreams were nightmares, but death would work for her. 

She shook herself back to absoluteness, realized she had been drown in the ocean of her emotions and thoughts for minutes by then. 

 

Today was the day. She muttered secretly to herself as she was gazing at the hanging calendar next to the window which was hidden with the pink long curtains, preventing the sunlight from overcoming the thin fabric. She ran her slim fingers in her black, straight and scraggly hair, it tenderly. “I will be coming..”

 

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Thank you sincerely for your support, I will be updating soon, I promise. I apologize for this short chapter. This story was meant to be a one-shot story from the first place, but I have too much homework and exams to get myself ready for. Maybe I will be finishing it next week. 

Again, thank you.❤️

 

Ps. English is my third language, I apologize for any grammar mistakes.