I don’t like May.
I don’t like the verb and I especially do not care for the month.
Bad things happen in May.
Big bad things and small bad things.
I always get sick in May.
MPS was retrenched in May.
Things I can’t speak of… always, inexplicably, in May.
It is like The Universe is asking permission… Mother May I?
I was hoping that this year would be different.
The seasons seem to be completely fucked up and despite the fact it is only a few weeks until Winter, the trees are only just starting to turn firey red and gold and drop their leaves.
So maybe it is still only April.
Maybe we can skip right over May and whisper my thanks to Mother Nature for having my back.
Maybe that blackness that is being painted over me in thick globs will slip right off and we can hide it under the fallen leaves that make me smile with their beautiful phoenix colours and crunchiness underfoot.
Maybe, if I am strong enough, if I wish hard enough, May might not happen.