One Hell of A Year

Lessons, if you will. The theory is as follows; everyone has three loves in their lives. The first teaches us the expectations that love carries. The second teaches us more about ourselves, guiding us towards a more mature self. And the third is the one you will love effortlessly and unconditionally until the inevitable end. The only difference with my first love had been the simple fact that they were my first, second, and third love combined in one greyish green-eyed person with the brightest smile one could possibly fathom. Unordinary burnt ashen irises in the dark, clashing with the emerald-like tint reflected whenever met with the bright beam of the sun. A rare Eau de Nil shade, making them one with the very ground I walk on, the very earth I live. They became every beat of my heart, every tear I shed, every laugh I belted, and every regret I've ever lived.

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Fall had always been Isa's favorite season, with falling leaves and crisp morning breezes. She felt at home underneath the comfort of her favorite scarf and baize pair of gloves, piercing golden brown eyes clashing faultlessly with the maple tree's sap-coated bark. She is merely a hopeless romantic who lost hope in love.

Winter had effortlessly become their favorite season after they'd found themself, the season's sharpness never failing to remind them that they were alive within an endless storm of self-doubt and pity. A politically none profitable driven individual with a love for music who hardly believed in love due to their fear of it becomes comforted by the idea of Fall.

Winter and Fall, what a tragically beautiful story of a love meant to last every season.