Thoughts of a Twenty-Two year-old

On summery days, vanilla scents and the finishing of books

Today was an off-day in a series of off-days.
I can't really put my finger on what it was, because there was no single reason. I just felt sort of separated from myself, as if my soul was watching my body go through the daily motions from afar.

What I can say with certainty though, is that it was hot.

Far too hot for September, it was 30 degrees.

September is an odd month for me in general. After having been in school/uni for, oh god knows how many years now, the summer has become synonymous with freedom and September therefore the ending of said freedom. You know that poem by Shakespeare, the one that starts with 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day'? He tells that his love is more eternal and more beautiful than the summer, which tends to be people's favourite season (that's how I understand it, in any case). Well I agree with Shakespeare that it can be too hot and in general it isn't all too great. But all that dims in light of the fact that in the summer, for all the school/uni-going years of my life, I have no responsibilities. I feel more present in the moment somehow, not having to look ahead and prepare for exams and pop-quizzes. It's quite a relief when June comes around, and September signifies the end of that.

On the other hand, I love the autumn. I love the falling leaves and the rainy nights. I love flickering candles and long evenings curled up with my cat and a book. I love spritzing my favourite vanilla perfume with its warming and deep scent. I associate that perfume so much now with autumn that I can barely look at it in the summer. So September is the month in which I feel torn. I regret the end of summer, and perhaps all the plans that never ended up happening, but also deeply anticipate the oncoming autumn when I can snuggle into my bed and wear thick jumpers without anyone questioning whether I'm too warm.

The only other time I get this weird, torn, off-feeling is when I finish a book. And not just any book. A book that made me fall in love with its world, its characters, its sadness and joys. A book that I couldn't stop thinking about, couldn't stop reading even if I should be doing a hundred other things. And this time September coincided with me finishing my favourite book series ever: Harry Potter. I have read it god knows how many times over the years. This time round I found it strangely sad. I used to always be around Harry's age when I read it, and now that I'm a few years older I think it's made me look at his story differently. I don't recall ever finding it so despairing before. Of course, when characters die I would always cry and find it horrible. But now I just find the whole story sad. Like how can one person survive so much emotional and physical pain? I think I connected with some of the other characters more than I ever have before, and I really enjoyed that. I love Harry Potter though because even though it is sad, it's also so happy and uplifting and comforting, more so than anything I have ever read before.

So having finished that story with a rollercoaster of emotions, and being now well into September, I find myself in these off-days, trying to balance uni and family and alone-time.
The fact that I have seen the tell-tale signs of the autumn beginning gives me some comfort though.

Finished 15-09-2023