It was August

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It was August, 2012.

After a day-long trip the bus rolled to a derelict gas station. The passengers spread out towards the toilet or lit a cigarette. Both have equivalent importance. Eventually, I was in Turkey.
It was truly freezing. Amidst the mountains of Inner Anatolia the small station was built on the ridge of a gentle hill. The cold wind was sweeping from the top of the road downhill only to creep under my clothes. I was tired. And shaken. With the malleable, clay-like near future right on the top of the hill waiting for me I shivered and turned my back. The sun was going down but the dense mass of clouds didn't let the last beams light the highlands. Hazy tones of orange and red painted the bottom of the sky.
My eyelids were wetted; by my thoughts or the wind I couldn't tell.

I felt like it's only me, the bus and the mountains.

The first time in my life I was making a decision solely on my own. Was the country or the love that anticipated this move more? I was hesitating. The earlier didn't sound convincing enough, a country would never affect me so much. The latter... I'd never admit such a bold move. And yet here I stand.

My saddest fucking August.

The month I always hated and loved the most. The peak and landmark of each year. The grand final.

As the Sun shrank into a distant point and eventually vanished from the grim sky, I got back on the bus. My highly emotional self felt the gloomy sunset was forecasting an even gloomier scenario I was about to experience.

Shortly, life in Trabzon and my exaggerated misery had begun. But nothing happens in vain. One thing I learned during through my adventure in Calypso nymph's city was that life is much bigger than our petty decisions and concerns... so I definitely won't be the guy making a fuss about it.

And hey! We only live once. Fucking it up just doesn't seem to make any sense.