im sat here watching the wind blow the leaves off the trees and take them swirling around the garden. i feel like one of those trees stripped of all its glory and having something else in control of its destiny only mine is not the wind it is M.E.
what the future holds i do not know will i have my spring and recover again for a glorious summer of existence in the real world only to be dashed by yet another autumn when the wind strips my leaves or will i fine the secret or holding on a become evergreen like i was before. my greatest fear is that this shall be a permanent winter.
on from which i will never recover.
so i adjust and find other ways to hide from my autumn i borrow from the memory's of summer and plan for my spring hiding from those desolate possibility's in hope that this winter will be short. i