#24
on hope and blooming
dear you,
i hope the month of love has treated you with love and tenderness.
february feels like a lot like waiting. waiting for joy. waiting for the right time. waiting for spring. waiting for understanding.
i spend a lot of my time at train stations. waiting. i get to see a lot of human interaction. particularly hugging, waving, smiling, kissing. sometimes i feel my heart tug.
when will it be my turn? when will someone choose me?
“there are all these people here i don’t know by sight or by name. and we pass alongside each other and don’t have any connection. and they don’t know me and i don’t know them. and now i’m leaving town and there are all these people i will never know”
carson mccullers, the member of the wedding
i’ve been trying to be more accepting of the tragedy of human relationships in that they aren’t forever. at least not in the same way. life is short. tomorrow isn’t promised.
i’m scared of becoming a stranger to people in my life.
endings come so suddenly, without warning, and without making much sense. one moment you’re in the midst of it, and the next it’s all a very long time ago, you’re a different person now and none of it is coming back.
a few days ago i was listening to one of my playlists and a song from 2015 started playing. it reminded me of one of my childhood best friends who i used to sing it with at the back of our maths class. i was instantly transported to my life back then and my friendships. i didn’t feel sad however, just a little strange since i hadn’t thought about them in a long time.
i think that everyone i have ever met and been loved by has shown me that love is the point.
i’ve been thinking about how we pick up so many habits and phrases from people we love. it’s no wonder it hurts so much when things end. we become a reflection of the people we care about and these traits stick with us even if the people don’t.
“the number of hours we have together is actually not so large”
mikko harvey
kind words or smiles from strangers always stay with me. i don’t know you and i’ll probably never see you again but here’s a piece of happiness for you to keep. this is all i have to offer and i do want to offer you something.
the man who greets me in the morning whilst sitting on his doorstep smoking his cigarette. the smile from the girl i always see going to school. the cheery voice of the woman who serves refreshments on the train and always makes a joke about alcohol being available despite it being 8 am. the woman who once told me she loved my style when i was reading at a coffee shop. the bright smiles from baristas who recognise me.
to be loved, you can’t shut yourself off to people trying to know you. you have to open your heart like a little doorway and invite them in.
“so many people enter and leave your life! hundreds of thousands of people! you have to keep the door open so they can come in! but it also means you have to let them go!”
jonathan safran foer, extremely loud and incredibly close
i’m trying to be patient and compassionate with myself. things are confusing and hard but i don’t want to force myself to solve or figure it out. what i’ve learned in my little life is that things happen in their own time as long as i do the best i can.
i guess all i can do is try.
i feel like i need to repeat these words to myself like a prayer meant to save me.
sometimes when the world is quiet enough and the yellow light of the sun hits just right, i feel like a child again. i wonder who i am. maybe i am just the amalgamation of everyone i have ever met. maybe there are pieces of them all in me. maybe that is the reason why we crossed paths.
i was sitting in the train yesterday morning with my eyes closed and the sun warming my face. my eyes started to feel heavy and i started to feel sleepy but i felt so content.
i read somewhere that someone who went to space talked about how it shattered his illusions about the wonders of the universe because it was cold and empty and dead, and everything worth marveling at was back down on earth. i keep thinking about this.
the loneliness gets hard to deal with sometimes but i will always have myself. i will always have faith and hope and love.
“i am out with lanterns, looking for myself”
emily dickinson
i am coming back to myself again and again and again.
i have faith and hope bunched up tight like thread tied around my fists. i am determined to remain soft and full of love. to let myself be vulnerable and let myself be loved. to hold life in my bare hands and kiss it despite its rough edges.
i heard the birds tweeting this morning as i woke up today. i am surrounding myself with wonderful people these days. my heart doesn’t ache as much. it’s nice to see things fall into place.
i am full of hope because i have to be.
i sit in the sun. i drink tea. i witness my friends smiling and laughing. i read. i walk. i buy myself flowers. i fall in love with living. there’s not much i can do, i’m small and weak and i only know so much. but i know i can be kind.
meanwhile, flowers still bloom.
the moon rises, and the sun.
babies smile and somewhere,
against all the odds,
two people are falling in love.strangers share cigarettes and jokes.
light plays on the surface of water.
grace occurs on unlikely streets
and we hold each other fast
against entropy, the fires and the flood.life leans towards living
and, while death claims all things at the end,
there were such precious times between,
in which everything was radiant
and we loved, again, this world.tom hirons, in the meantime
i look out to the endless fields on the train with the sun warming my face. spring is coming. it’s on the tip of the tongue of the earth. the daffodils are appearing. the birds are starting to sing. the flowers are starting to bloom. it is cold here now but it won’t always be.
