# 35 || " she forgot her wings again and gravity never forgets "

Maybe you never know when an eternal-seeming haze has lifted, maybe it never does, or maybe it was forever a figment. These days when my mood matches the sky and my dreams match the moon, there are half-circle and crescent thoughts that wake me up in the middle of the night. I don't remember who I am, or  I used to want to be. Incessant fretting and winteresque winds make my hands shake, but it wasn't always like this. Vivid daydreams save the day, they counterbalance the burden of the substandard existence that I didn't even believe in before today, but it hasn't really been the best of seasons.

I've never been very good at distinguishing between reality and fantasy, but when it's a concept that is a little more elusive than what is real (what IS real, anyway?) and what isn't, I imagine my skill to discern differences would fall even further south. Perhaps it's because I have felt less and less like myself every day this week, or maybe it is because for the first time I am questioning my character in the most objective way I ever have. Or maybe I have woken up the ghosts. Or maybe I just know myself too well, and that absence of innocence in understanding oneself might be posing more problems than profit (putain, ma hyperverbosité !).

But when folks become faceless and fairytales become fragments of something I used to fancy, then what of it? I close my eyes and see this rush of grey. Abracadabra, c'est analysis paralysis ! But amid the doubt-driven silence, my freight-train of thought is eradicating every splinter of naiveté from anything worth saying. There's this peculiar sensation not dissimilar to guilt that has filled me right up, it's a Franny Glass kind of day. Mania insania, it's released through my fingers walking and twitching toes. And sometimes, all of a sudden I'm scared of my shadow all over again.

You know what else though, the golden lining is knowing in your heart of hearts everybody who loves you, and, better yet, the wish and faculty to love right them right back. But there come nights and days when you feel things more intensely than you thought you ever could and it is moments like these when all you can do is hold onto the rails as tight as you can, and don't even dare fall into that rabbit hole again and again and again and again.

"My dear, 
here we must run 
as fast as we can, 
just to stay in place. 
And if you wish 
to go anywhere 
you must run 
twice as fast 
as that.”

( some old parisian footage from 2011, just to emphasise the nostalgic nuance of late late automne )