It was the start of November and autumn looked like it was in full swing. Everywhere I looked I was attacked with this unexplainable melancholy that I wasn’t really sure I should be feeling. It wasn’t depressing melancholy though EI wouldn’t dishonor all the proper emos in this world to pretend I was sad when in reality I wasn’t. I guessed it was probably just the feelings evoked in me by the crunchy dried up leaves and the smell of the woods as they prepared themselves for their yearly death, yearly death meaning winter. I had a lot to say about winter, too, but I shoved that to the back of my mind for the meantime. It was the middle of autumn, for Chrissakes, and I was going to savor every waking hour of that season before I let myself feel the dread for winter.
– Excerpt from my notes of extraordinary emo~ness