Gloomy Sunday.

Gloomy sunday rests my mind, at least for now. My harbour's safe and wind is calm but with the hours striking the cold gets closer too and all that I'm afraid off will creep back into time.

It's that time off the year again, when fall creeps slowly into winter. The time for allowed depressed faces, listening to Lykke Li's darkest songs on repeat and gloomy sunday mornings where everyone seeks comfort in a cup of winter tea. As much as I claim that I'm a strong and independent person (wild at heart, ya know), I would be a total hypocrite if I didn't admit that it's nice from time to time to go back to your safe old grandparents nest on these gloomy days and sleep in your old bed in fuzzy, blankets (hidious blue blankets with cats, clouds and suns on them smelling like familiar washing powder). Then you wake up the next morning to the sound of trees rushing in the backyard and the smell of sea when you open the window. Sometimes that's all you need to get you back on track and get the last push to finally go on with the rest of your life rollercoaster.