Fresh snow on a spring day, transition period is the most confusingly unpleasant. The old is still lingering around, having the unwillingness to let go of the past. The future is yet to establish itself completely, asserting, bit by bit, its influence and presence.
I often encounter the kind of people, who reminds me of the past. A past, of which is not an enjoyably reminiscing kind; rather, a teachable yet humbling one. My people pleasing past has not fully let go of its firm grip on my psychic; while my self-assuring future has not deeply infused me with its beliefs and confidence. Being at a point of cross road, my resonance with the confusingly unpleasant, seasonal transition period is stronger than ever.