Dear September

# September always disappears faster once school begins.

The days stop feeling separate. Everything becomes schedules, bells, trains, homework folded between conversations and exhaustion. And yet tiny things remain.

The sound of H. laughing unexpectedly during literature.
Rain on classroom windows last Thursday.
M. waiting near the station pretending not to look for me immediately.
Little cracks in the surface.

I think that’s how memory actually works. Not through important moments but through fragments that accidentally survive.

This month already feels marked somehow.
Like a book someone carried carelessly in a bag.

Not ruined.
Just lived in.

I look at people differently now compared to three weeks ago. Less afraid maybe. Or simply more aware that everybody is improvising constantly, including adults. Especially adults.

Teachers pretend certainty.
Parents pretend control.
Teenagers pretend indifference.

Meanwhile everyone is just trying not to embarrass themselves emotionally in public.

School still exhausts me.
M. still feels colder in the mornings.
G. still feels more honest at night.

Some things apparently become true very quickly.
Others take years.
And honestly I’m not sure which is worse.

STRANGE.
Remember me,
Eclipse