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Fall is by far my favorite season. In a close second is Winter, only because it doesn't have as joyful imagery with its name. Considering all the facts, Winter should by my favorite.

Every January I meet with my best friends to celebrate New Years. It's a tradition we started and it's going to keep going for as long as it can. It's something I look forward to no matter what.

December means the end of the semester of school and you get money to spend on yourself. That's always a plus.

February, January, and December all have nice weather. I can wear jeans everyday. Even though it's cold, sometimes I still like to wear my tank tops XDD

The Fall means there are leaves all around. Halloween falls under this season, as does Thanksgiving. I don't look forward to October but I do like to watch other people celebrate it. I think it's interesting and "cool." I love the autumn colors and feel. The weather is also nice. Usually it's so in between that anything can happen. Fall is unique in that it rains <3 Oh the rain... how I miss it now.

The fires, the pounding against the deck <3 book burning and staying up late to watch movies. My mother's parties and the smell of the air... oh fall <3

The history should turn my love to hate but it doesn't. My grandpa died on Thanksgiving two years ago. I had my last huge suicide attempt in October 2008 and got kicked out of the school in December. Despite being teased by my family at all gatherings... being called fat or being pushed around or beat up.... I still love spending some quality time with my mom, dad and brother. I like watching their faces warm with the happiness of being a family. My mother's pride and my father's kindness. It has taken so long for him to come to understand me and it makes me so proud that we can be friends now. And my mother, ah... when we have good days, it is so good. We can laugh and bake together. We can shop and do errands. When things are good, they are very good. I don't need my brother those days to protect me. I don't need my chalk. And I feel at home. Home.

I should hate those months but perhaps it is because of those painful memories that make the bright ones even better. I get to see Andrea and spend the day with her. Her laughter, her smiles. Her stories and our memories. Our good times, talking of absolutely nothing and yet everything all at once. And spending those nights with Christy, curled up on her bed. Her enthusiasm that she shares with me. She opens up to me. To me. Our silly little snacks and games we play. The stories we discuss and art we make. How we help each other improve. How we listen and grow. We grow.