One winter day, I was deeply engrossed in my literary pursuits when something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Yellow maple leaves were drifting down with a gentle, melancholic sway in the breeze. As I watched them tap against the clear window pane before settling on the dry ground, a sense of disappointment washed over me. 

Winter has always been the most challenging season for me, as sleep eludes me during the hot summer nights. Strange, right? I could never quite understand the reason behind this peculiarity. 

Eventually, I decided to stop seeking answers and accepted it as a part of who I am. Sometimes, it's liberating to let go of the need for explanations.

However, the last three summers turned out to be more bearable. 

Liam was there with me, and I'll forever be grateful to him for making those sleepless nights more manageable with his late-night calls. I cherish those moments of conversation, even though our interests rarely aligned. 

Liam once teasingly remarked, "You're a boring person, Zosia. You hardly talk about anything that interests me." Though his words stung, I could only respond, "I'm trying my best. Just give me some time." 

I regretted not being more vocal about my feelings at that moment. A fear of losing him had always kept me from expressing my true thoughts and emotions, leading me to conform to his interests.

Stories have always been my refuge, and I find solace in people who share their tales with me. 

I love both listening and narrating stories, but my inclination toward fantasy, metaphors, and aesthetics clashed with Liam's more practical and grounded nature. 

To please him, I started discussing his interests, suppressing my own colourful world in the process. 

I tried to explain that adapting to his world would take time for someone like me, with a kaleidoscopic mind. Gradually, I realised that Liam's world was like a canvas with only two shades, black and white, so different from my vibrant spectrum. 

Perhaps, to him, my world seemed equally monochromatic. If only he had visited it once, he might have seen its beauty.

During some of those summer nights, I found myself in clubs, seeking temporary relief from my restlessness through drinks. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but the loud music, dim lights, and dancing bodies dulled my distressed mind for a while. 

I admit I developed a somewhat amusing habit of observing couples in the club, but that too was a reflection of my longing for connection.

One day, Liam complimented the way I kissed, and it filled me with joy. I felt a sense of warmth in his presence, but I failed to express how much it meant to me. Maybe if I had been more vocal about my feelings, I wouldn't have to bear the weight of unsaid words and my nights wouldn't feel so dark.

Life is unpredictable, and that is the reason for my optimism. 

I believe in embracing the rain with a smile, as it brings hope and the promise of better sleep ahead. Sitting on my balcony, sipping freshly brewed coffee while observing the raindrops' dance, feels like therapy to me. 

But lately, everything tastes bitter, much like the remnants of past relationships. I've learned not to judge people for their choices, as everyone has the right to pursue happiness in their own way. So, I let go and move on.

Recalling the words of people I once trusted, the same words that made me fall for them, now seems ironic and laughable. Words can change like the seasons, and I've been left disappointed more than once. 

It makes me wonder what, if not words, is enough to trust someone. In moments like these, I turn to the power of music and lyrics to heal my wounded soul.

The photo of Liam and me in my old diary evokes both happiness and sadness. 

We appeared happy in that picture, and while I contemplated whether I should keep such memories, I chose not to hold grudges. 

Memories can remain untouched by unfortunate endings, and I cherish the moments of joy we shared without resentment.

Liam's departure left me silent and tearful, and my pillow became the keeper of my tears on many sleepless nights. I yearned for him in my dreams, in every melody, and in every scent. Yet, with time, I gained a deeper understanding of the situation. He became a lesson learned, a hard-earned wisdom. The pain of his absence faded, and I realised I was never truly with him; I was just empty, and he filled himself more than he filled me.

Now, with winter's return, so does Liam. But this time, I choose myself and my precious sleep above all else. When he pleads for forgiveness and reconciliation, I stand my ground, knowing that I can't go back. Instead, I tell him to find me in the comment section of nostalgic 90s songs on YouTube. There, amidst heartfelt words, he may find the essence of who I was and the sincerity I had for him.

In the end, life moves on, and I welcome the changing seasons with hope and optimism. 

I've learned to value myself, my experiences, and the lessons learned from past relationships. 

As I prepare for the winter days ahead, I feel content and at peace, knowing that I've chosen my own path and have found joy in my unique kaleidoscope of a world.

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