time moves differently here.
summer of never ending heat. the clocks endless, useless ticking in the living room.
the words don’t seem to fit in my mouth anymore. you’re my family but neither of us can seem to get around the small talk about the weather.
it makes me sad, it makes me laugh. I weave my way into the garden I spent childhood summers running around in. I sneak my way into a living room filled with antiquities my minds eye searched for in the daybreaks. I hoard the franzbrötchen and hansearten that I grew up devouring each teatime.
every memory floats distant while I live it again at eighteen. sitting awkward on chairs I used to slouch in, walking measured through scenes I used to skate through.
I still love it all the same, but it’s different. It’s always going to be different from now on, I know that, but it still hits like a duller kind of ache, like a faded shade of colour.
this isn’t your home anymore. you need to find a new one.