November’s Veil: Where Shadows Begin

November—that gloomy, brooding month where the trees give up the ghost, and the world smells like wet dirt and disappointment. The leaves? They’ve gone from a Pinterest-worthy display of fiery reds and golds to something resembling a sopping compost heap. And the sun? That fickle bastard has noped out, leaving us to drown in the suffocating embrace of early twilight. But you know what? Good riddance. I say let it rot.

While the sun-chasers mourn their precious “good vibes only,” November rolls in like a blunt force reminder: Nothing lasts. It’s the annual reckoning—no more sunshine to distract you from the mess inside your own head. This isn’t the month for pretense or pretending we’re fine. It’s time to stare down that void in the pit of your soul and maybe crack a beer while you do it.

Gratitude lists? Please. If I have to hear one more person list their “blessings,” I might chew through drywall. Forced family gatherings? Yeah, nothing like pretending you enjoy listening to your uncle rant about crypto for three hours straight while praying for spontaneous combustion. Nope, November isn’t about that nonsense—it’s about stripping life down to the ugly, unvarnished truth.

This is the season for getting real with yourself. For peeling back the layers, confronting the stuff you bury, and staring your own shadow in the face without blinking. The world around us decays; why not let a bit of that honest rot seep into your outlook? There’s beauty in collapse, folks—an unapologetic kind of clarity that only comes when everything falls apart.

This month, we’re going deep. We’re talking mortality without the sugar coating, introspection without the fluffy mindfulness nonsense, and truth without the Hallmark platitudes. It’s time to question the bedtime stories we tell ourselves to feel better—because comfort is a lie, and we’re too old to keep falling for it.

So grab your trench coats, pour a stiff drink, and join me as we dive headfirst into November’s embrace. Let’s stop lying to ourselves and admit the truth: life’s a fleeting mess, and all we’ve got is the ride down. In the end, what else matters, really? Nothing—and that’s exactly the point.