it's nobody's fault but my own

As quickly as summer brushed itself onto the thirstiest of lips, it has receded like the most bitter tide to ever wash against the shore. I had at one time or another in the past few months found myself on the cusp of major life changes like perpetually turning pages in a book that is longer than Tolstoy's War and Peace. Now I just feel as though I'm stagnant, an stone unturned, collecting my thoughts and feelings like moss atop my cracking skin. Looking in the mirror I can see myself aging. I crave sleep more than anything, and no matter what conversation begins I find myself lapsing back to some pointless thought, my mind meandering about like a stray cat. Months ago I felt as though the world rested upon the tips of my curled toes, now I feel like it's barely within reach. The summer of this or that was not really summer at all. I watch the world around me, the innocence around me, and I have forgotten about the true essence of this time. The spirit of summers past has escaped me and I no longer anticipate it's coming or dread its leaving us. It's just another three months and it will return. A blur encapsulates me. What is with the human preoccupation of getting things accomplished? Tonight while driving home, it is the early evening, the sun is setting much sooner than it would have not too long ago, a flock of birds lifted themselves from the ground and into the tops of trees that line up behind the houses on my street... they are fleeting silhouettes in a melon colored sky. I wonder what I am doing but they're just finding a place to sleep.