LA FIN D'AVRIL [for etta and ever ever]
We often forget the significance of someone or something's presence until the presence of their absence. After sunset, after the golden hour when the air is chilly and the stars are hiding behind the clouds - that's when I miss her the most. Sometimes during the day when it's quiet and the trees are still, I can still see her; her head is cocked to the side and her eyes are sparkling and for a moment I can't remember if I'm in a daydream or reality because it doesn't seemfair real that she isn't on this earth anymore. But still, after sunset, after the golden hour when the air gets chilly and the stars are hiding behind the clouds, I feel like it was all my fault. When my mind has nowhere else to wander, I miss her more than I thought I could miss anything, ever.
My first thought was to celebrate life, to love harder than I ever have and to treasure everything, because everything is temporary. But I can't help but appraise things in loss over gain, I keep forgetting the meaning in everything and simultaneously everything seems so serious and important and overwhelming ... yet, not at all. What's on the surface right now, is only the surface. There is a whole entity and existence underneath it all, under the layers and layers of emotions and opinions and heartache, it seems, there is only heartache. I'm so sorry, my little moonkitten, I miss you so much.
We often forget the significance of someone or something's presence until the presence of their absence. After sunset, after the golden hour when the air is chilly and the stars are hiding behind the clouds - that's when I miss her the most. Sometimes during the day when it's quiet and the trees are still, I can still see her; her head is cocked to the side and her eyes are sparkling and for a moment I can't remember if I'm in a daydream or reality because it doesn't seem
My first thought was to celebrate life, to love harder than I ever have and to treasure everything, because everything is temporary. But I can't help but appraise things in loss over gain, I keep forgetting the meaning in everything and simultaneously everything seems so serious and important and overwhelming ... yet, not at all. What's on the surface right now, is only the surface. There is a whole entity and existence underneath it all, under the layers and layers of emotions and opinions and heartache, it seems, there is only heartache. I'm so sorry, my little moonkitten, I miss you so much.
LE DÉBUT DE JUILLET [for tori, forever ago]
It feels like the start of the end before the beginning, if you know what I mean. The variations in my every day, like the waves, my emotions ebb and flow and wax and wane with the moon so inevitably that it is almost ~predictably~ inconsistent. I revolve through lunar-like phases of surrender, of tolerance and rebellion, of displeasure and love and ecstasy and sheer terror. Several mornings ago I woke up and it felt like the world was ending, there was a tiny little inkling of pre-apocalyptic unease deep within my bones and I couldn't seem to determine if it began in a dream or upon waking. Then for a moment, just after sunrise, I felt so loved and almost ashamed of any prior instance where I thought the world deplored me and my existence. But by lunchtime the oscillation ended and I felt the okay-kind-of-normal, but only for a minute, and in the early afternoon when everything went quiet, I began to feel lonely and that feeling only escalated as the sun went to sleep and the stars hid behind the clouds. Maybe it's just July. Do you always remember your Mondays? I remember mine - it's my favourite day of the week. Last lundi I was bleary eyed and barely dreaming, The Night We Met in the middle of the night, 4.a.m. coffee and uncontrollable emotions [isn't that my every day??] with the only girl in the world who ever argues with my anger. Do you remember last winter, or the winter before that? Maybe I have romanticised winter every year since 2011 but in reality I think this time of the year is the saddest because the silver lining blurs into the grey of the sky and you're lucky to see a sunset.
The ache of loving too much, the illogical shame that accompanies feeling everything beyond sincerely and likewise the chagrin in feigning flippancy because you've convinced yourself that caring is demeaning and loving is plebeian and it's always easier to pretend that you're out of touch with everybody and everything. Is that just me? I wonder what happens if you keep everything inside ... - do you implode? Explode? Does it excude from your fingertips? Does all of the choked-back love filter through your voice or is it emitted from your eyes whilst you watch the world pretend like they know what they're doing?
[i still dk.]
Love,
A x
