I fell in love with melancholy

These familiar aches when I come across old pictures; missing people has become an underlying constant and I tell myself that this is what happens as you grow up. You get more and more scared of losing the things you've come to care about. Despite constant nostalgia, there is peace with each wavering step forward. 

Elbows deep in a sink of weapons, we can't help but belt out songs we dare not believe in. How is it that you were so ruthless and kind in this game that should never have a prize? I survey my crumbling kingdom and know it is a metaphor for myself; I crumble. The future is so hazy, foggy, terrifying, unsure. 

She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.  – Stephen Chbosky. 

These unfamiliar yearnings scare me and I battle with releasing them. Our eyes both crinkle at the corners when we smile, which in turn makes me smile; surges of affection when dark eyes meet. Shyness. It is impossible to understand the emotions surging through my body. Some have been missing for so long that I don't quite understand their meaning; don't quite grasp their purpose but feel them all the same. It has happened, and I convince myself that I'm happier observing from afar and nurturing all the tiny pieces of myself that I have recently rediscovered. I am cautious but I ache less. Sketches around the room, lead features and textures scream roughness, nuance, softness, shadows,  gentleness. Rediscovering.

He left a taste of thunder in my mouth. - Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev

And all at once, summer collapsed into fall. 

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