My life can be compared to a tree in the fall season. Each leaf one year of my life. Not to many but not that few. With every day that passes, a part of my life falls to the ground. Eventually there will be no leaves. I'll be barren and blank. My life will be completely gone. Nothing will be left for people to admire, look up to, or look down on. Maybe after the leaves of my life have fallen and faded away, people will be happy. They'll tear the rest of me down and put something new in my place. My life can be compared to a tree in the fall season. Flush and beautiful in the beginning, torn and tattered in between each day, and completely bare and dull at the end.
