07.10.26.
I found an abandoned bathtub, from the look of it, rust had already claimed it, blooming underneath a thin layer. Someone, perhaps believing that neglect could be disguised had poured the last of their remaining white wall paint over it. In places, the rust pierced through the thin paintwork, wearing it away until both decay and hope had occupied the same surface. I laid an old baby blanket inside and climbed into it. It was a strangely cold night, too cold for summer in a seaside town. A gentle breeze and the scent of salt. I was listening to Black Friday by Tom Odell and found myself staring into a sky emptied of stars, even the heavens had nothing left to say. My hands began to shake, yet my heart was impossibly still. And I thought about the peculiar way a life collapses, not with magnificent tragedy, much as quiet concessions, a postponed dream because you get busy with other things with a higher priority, loved ones who you have distance from due to the way life is, and the loneliness that never left me through the years until I can no longer remember when and why it began. I wonder how I painted over my damage, while rust settled beneath my skin and I learned to smile around it. But a proof that something once existed strongly enough to decay is a more positive look.
The wind eventually quieted, or maybe I did, almost at peace the way I feel.
Told a younger girl the other day that the fear of using the first page in your pretty notebooks is something I learned to embrace when I grew older, and she said, I hope I grow old as you did. And the last orange of the sun in the sky went with dawn, a dark blue sky now. Despite all the ways my life had unraveled, the places emptied of people, plans, and younger versions of self once stood, I had not become another abandoned thing. And we are moving our bodies through time; there is beauty in a way a human resists. I know I do, give myself a bit of sadarino time, but I am generally happy, from the person I once was.
vaporwave
blakekathryn
stormborns
