#86 || [ glitt3r in the $ky, glitter in 0ur eyes ]

Here we all still are, just post-    une nouvelle lune. What an interesting mars / mois, the nostalgia has been          w i l d    as of late. It's like a montage of carefully-curated memories flicker at the forefront of my mind, in combination with some incredible stills of what is yet to come. I am waiting (im)patiently for compassion to trump complacency (!), I am waiting for a stroke of luck and for a dream to come true. The method and meaning of everything seems to rear its little daisy-head through the     fog and haze     of the stress and anxiety and denial of everything that is happening all around us. The fear of it all reminds me of the same moon we see at night, it's the same     sun and moon     that orbit around this planet that we all share altogether.     

The contrast of every day, the            distance            so surreal it almost seems metaphorical? And I wonder why this was meant to be, because that seems important. The delicate balance of resistance and community and sacrifice and compromise and discomfort ::     I am  fearful of the fear, because when it felt like it was just me, it seemed like the entire weight of the world and now it's the world, it's the terror multiplied by seven point something billion and, no pun intended, it feels impossible to breathe under the immensity of everything.     outside,         You could cut the air, the tension is unreal. 

                 " But whatever , let's get lost on mars... " - Dula Peeps

With love, A. x

#85 || WITH NOTHING HOLDING ME,I HANG LIKE A STAR.

~ ~ ~

For ever and forever and ever I have been drawn to the sea ;; it's something about the childish wonder of the water on the horizon. I liken the excitement of that initial regard of the ocean -- through the windscreen of the car -- along with rollercoasters and birthdays and seeing somebody you love after a very very very long time. The last few months and maybe most likely many more to come :: are re-defining me. There are no lack of lessons, lately - every other day I feel the earth being pulled out from underneath me and I wish I could bring myself to write without romanticising everything, but it's a guilty pleasure. The comfort I have in creating hyper-verbose sentences with too many adjectives and alliteration and not enough punctuation is one of the few joys in one of the greyest summers I have ever seen. 

Where do free spirits fit, in the intricate puzzle of society? Is it realism and the rigidity that bind us to these invisible rules of normality? With little else to lose, it is the intangible that seems to propel my physical and emotional reactions - which thereby has created a newfound empathy from deep within my heart. Because the truth outweighs the facts :: the undeniable calm I feel in your presence that makes me curiously blind to everything and everybody around us. But as real as the calm, I sense the disparity between us. And inside that difference is an unmistakable distance :: there is a very real divergence that simultaneously breaks my heart and has made me realise that the underlying complication has nothing to do with you and maybe everything to do with me.

It is the seemingly infinite disappointment that I think may one day get the better of me. Latterly, the layers of (my)self are stripped away and I am terrified of what may remain at the core when I have nothing left to lose. Every time I think I can't possibly feel more naked than I do in that moment, something happens. I wonder, at the end of everything, what else is there? 

There are moments where the descent down-the-rabbit-hole seems to lull and I am suspended in the air. In those instances, I can see fragments of the future and I can see myself exactly where I am :: I am a tangle of introspection and I am all alone, I have everything and nothing but the frightening secret is, I don't need anything or anybody. Truly, it might not seem scary on the outside but inside I am absolutely terrified. All. The. Time.

The fear is in the moment when I realised that was little comfort left in y o u. Because even the most gentle of reminders would instinctively present itself as a harsh slap-in-the-face that I am never going to be half of a whole. The gratitude, the stars and the fortune of the smallest pleasures :: their memory is fading faster than the speed of sound. I see you and I see headlights and explosions, I have a sip of wine, a cigarette, and feel my heart splitting at the seams. I catch my own gaze in a mirrored reflection and I wish I didn't have to be any-body or any-thing any-where any-more.

                                                                             Yours Sincerely, A.