Love, I am going to get a cheesecake.

Considered calling this post "Dangerous curves ahead" but thought that was too easily flipped into a girl-blogger pre-Thanksgiving calorie warning. Which this post is not. It is, however, abstractly about boys, which is something those girl-bloggers never touch on. Whew. That was a close one.

Dear This Time of Year,
Do not let me listen to Jeff Buckley. Do not let me remember things inaccurately. Do not let me wallow. Do not let me reminisce about emotions that did not exist. Do not let me fall into cliches. Do not let me understand that writing this post is plunging head on into cliche-land. Do not let me over analyze. Do not let me over emphasize.

Do let me know that a change in temperature is not an excuse for self-pity. Do let me remember why I always say this is my favorite time of year. Do let me know you have nothing to do with any of this.

This is me simultaneously remembering what I want and knowing that it doesn't matter.