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did i ever once cry, waiting for you to arrive?
The sky is lit, awash in pinkgold brilliance. It is breathtaking. Moments like this, I don't question the existence of a higher power.
I walked the NoHo streets today, sweater wrapped against the chill. It is truly fall now, I can see and taste and smell it, and feel it in my heart. Only fall can make me feel this way.
Everything reminds me, there. The Academy. The bakery. The Cedar Chest with its autumn displays and The Mercantile where I once, stoned, wanted to buy everything in the store because it was all so beautiful. Everything, all of it, a landmark to something I no longer have. (Does it still exist, though? Can it? That's the question. Everything changes, even when it doesn't seem to - knowing that, though, doesn't stop the wanting.)
Only fall does this to me.
Winter sleeps. Summer lingers. Spring moves forward, tries to forget, but fall, fall - in fall I want what's lost, I want what was left behind. In some sense fall is my favorite season of all, but no other season stirs this in me, this strange melancholy, and sometimes it hurts, more than even the coldest days in winter do.
I am forever mired in my past, in regret, in wishful thinking, in ghosts of what is no longer. I always walk with my head turned, glancing back - but only in fall does it feel this way. Like when I look, it will truly be there, all those shadows I can't stop chasing.
Walking past monuments of what isn't, not now, what will perhaps never be again, my eyes watered, and I could pretend to myself it was only the wind.
God. Do You exist? I want to believe in You, whatever form You might be in, I want to so very, very much. I want meaning. I want to know someone hears these thoughts, all of them, the dark and the angry and the sad and the joyous and the mundane and the cruel. I want these struggles to not be in vain. I want this chaos to have a direction, even if it's one I can't see. I want to pray for those I love, those I don't know how to love well enough, those I don't know how to show it to, how they mean to me. I need them to know.
I walked the NoHo streets today, sweater wrapped against the chill. It is truly fall now, I can see and taste and smell it, and feel it in my heart. Only fall can make me feel this way.
Everything reminds me, there. The Academy. The bakery. The Cedar Chest with its autumn displays and The Mercantile where I once, stoned, wanted to buy everything in the store because it was all so beautiful. Everything, all of it, a landmark to something I no longer have. (Does it still exist, though? Can it? That's the question. Everything changes, even when it doesn't seem to - knowing that, though, doesn't stop the wanting.)
Only fall does this to me.
Winter sleeps. Summer lingers. Spring moves forward, tries to forget, but fall, fall - in fall I want what's lost, I want what was left behind. In some sense fall is my favorite season of all, but no other season stirs this in me, this strange melancholy, and sometimes it hurts, more than even the coldest days in winter do.
I am forever mired in my past, in regret, in wishful thinking, in ghosts of what is no longer. I always walk with my head turned, glancing back - but only in fall does it feel this way. Like when I look, it will truly be there, all those shadows I can't stop chasing.
Walking past monuments of what isn't, not now, what will perhaps never be again, my eyes watered, and I could pretend to myself it was only the wind.
God. Do You exist? I want to believe in You, whatever form You might be in, I want to so very, very much. I want meaning. I want to know someone hears these thoughts, all of them, the dark and the angry and the sad and the joyous and the mundane and the cruel. I want these struggles to not be in vain. I want this chaos to have a direction, even if it's one I can't see. I want to pray for those I love, those I don't know how to love well enough, those I don't know how to show it to, how they mean to me. I need them to know.