Lost my train of thought

There's something about the autumn. I honestly think it makes me into my best possible self.

Pulling loved and worn, nubby sweaters out of storage to start sharp, bright mornings.
Brisk walks through myriads of color dancing on a breeze that turns my face cool and taut before tingling over pumpkin-spiced lattes.
Flickering flames.
The sound of leaves crunching under my feet.

It's strange- as a woman, that I despise the word 'cuddle'. With a passion. I’d punch men who used the word frequently in the face- you know, if I wasn’t too busy throwing up. To me autumn embodies all that this word immaturely and obnoxiously tries to convey- relaxing atmospheres, an unhurried mentality, a created (snug) sense of security, and of course- the desire to be inescapably tangled up in someone. I’ve never had a summer fling. It’s called fall for a reason.

But is it a time to start over or to pick up where one left off?