“I love you in your good moods, when your laughter sounds like the tinkling wind chimes I got on my 9th birthday. And when your eyes sparkle, i swear they could be more beautiful than the all the star-studded galaxies put together. And I love you, i love you in your bad times, bad mo-/ I’m sorry … I…don’t seem to be able to do that.”
If we could be honest with ourselves like that, maybe then we wouldn’t be the mess we are today, wouldn’t need to break ourselves a thousand times over in this lifetime. maybe it’ll help, to be honest for once. Because it hurts you, honey, it hurts me. and it hurts more than we care to know.
The first time it feels like stitches, the pain that ferociously assaults your side when you were finely striding along just a second ago.
Then all of a sudden you’re wheezing hard like a strangled beast, gasping for breath, for air, for relief.
it comes in waves, the pain and the relief, the joy and the madness. They alternate its cycles, we could almost figure out their pattern if we tried hard enough. then we could avoid this bitter rollercoaster altogether, could we not?
you’re hurting. and so am I.
it’s all fading when you begin to count the days and months instead of when you used to call that day the ‘first time we…’.
and you realize it does fade. time always does this trick, he isn’t a nice old man we concoct him to be in our fantasy. no, he doesn’t let you catch your breath. he rushes people right along, whether they like it or not.
and if you’re fortunate enough, he lets you pause just long enough to notice that the leaves have swapped their fashion to match the season.
in just another moment, they fall like awkward oversized confetti in the still air.
and in a time lapse, you see the green veiny thin things spiralling upwards, swept by the winds of change.
they land very unceremoniously, forming crunchy messes in spaces of mindless cement.
one more heap of useless nothings.
so, will we end that way?
sidenote: i haven’t had much writing inspiration lately but tonight all the words fell into place.
also im not in a relationship, thought i’d need to clarify.
“she puts her heart on paper. then the paper turns to gold.”
– joanna tan, 2017.