Hi. It’s me. The girl who thinks the world is amazing and beautiful every time a leaf crunches under her Uggs. The one who treats 65 degrees like a spiritual awakening. The one who believes a pumpkin spice latte has healing properties unmatched by modern medicine.
Every Oct. 1, I re-enter my autumn era with Olympic-level commitment. I make an elaborate “fall” playlist that’s 70% Taylor Swift and 30% songs that sound like walking through a Barnes & Noble in 2004. I take unnecessarily long detours through campus just to be outside and “feel the Earth around me.”
I fully believe fall gives me main character syndrome. Like suddenly I’m walking slower, staring off dramatically into the distance, and pretending my life has background music. One slight breeze and I’m rebranding. I could be failing three classes and still convince myself everything’s fine because I’m wearing a turtleneck and carrying a book I’m never going to read.
People love to roll their eyes. “Fall isn’t a personality trait,” they say. Yeah, okay, and neither is pretending you’re above pumpkin spice, but here we are. Let me have my serotonin coffee and my little pile of leaves. I’m just trying to survive midterms and smell like cinnamon while doing it.
The second the temperature drops by like five degrees, I’m suddenly wearing three scarves, two sweaters, and slippers that haven’t seen daylight since last fall. 65 degrees? Winter coat. 60 degrees? Call the fire department, I’m hibernating. Every little dip in the temp is an excuse to pretend I’m in a snow globe where everything is cozy and cinematic, even if I’m just walking to class in the same hallway as everyone else.
It’s about finding comfort when everything else feels overwhelming. It’s the illusion of stability: wrapping yourself in a hoodie three sizes too big, lighting a cinnamon candle from Bath and Body Works and convincing yourself that if your apartment smells like baked goods, you have your life together. It’s the little rituals — chai lattes, fuzzy socks, rewatching Gilmore Girls — that make chaos feel a little more poetic.
So yes, I’ll be taking my unnecessarily long walks to nowhere in particular, and pretending my life is a coming-of-age movie every time I see my breath in the air. Consider this your warning (or your invitation).
Because fall isn’t just a season, it’s a vibe and a state of mind.
Signed,
The girl who is currently wearing fuzzy socks, lighting a candle and rewatching When Harry Met Sally.
