seasons of unease

Everything is cold, so cold. Only the moon peeks out from behind the silver fog. You are cozy in your little room, curled up on a maroon-coloured window seat; far from any sort of harm, but not all is well. Not all is well. You have no idea what you are thinking, though – nothing is wrong?
A little voice that’s probably inside your head whispers /Nothing obvious, at least/.
You inhale deeply, because it feels like if you don’t you will choke on nothing at all. Maybe doing so will help clear your head? Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong.

Everything is budding, and everything is turning green. It does not help your mother’s allergies, but she is an adult, she can handle it, or so you like to reassure yourself. She is an adult, much like you will be soon – someone magically equipped to deal with all of their problems. Someone who either forgets how to imagine or never really grows up. You are not sure if you are ready, but who is?
Something is still not right, and now it is making you queasy. /Nothing obvious is wrong/.
So why does it feel like there is?

Everything is in full bloom, except for flowers that need the cold to survive. You have not been invited to any celebrations so far, but the vacation is still young. After this season it is off to school-for-grown-ups, but do you even qualify? This is more than a daunting prospect, it is terrifying.
You are getting more of a handle on the wrongness that has nagged you. It has something to do with unobvious feelings.
But what does that mean?

Everything is falling, including you. Falling for the friend that you have really loved for ages. It’s a peculiar feeling, falling; like nothing has ever been more hopeless, and nothing has ever been so delightful. It’s like walking on a clear platform, suspended in time for the entire world to see.
It is almost time for cozy, maroon-coloured window seats, and maybe you will not sit alone this season. The queasiness has almost dissipated and you are at peace, for the first time this year.
Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong.

[so I’m stupidly happy with this because it is 4 sections/seasons, 12 paragraphs/months, and as far as I can count, 365 words. I’m gonna hit publish before I second-guess myself too much.]