the days are blurring together.
i am eighteen, lying down at the foot of my mother's bed. she does not mind.
i am humming to a comforting song. i feel too big and too small for everything.
there is an ache in my heart as i leave. i then find myself in my chair, desk facing the wall beside an open window.
i glance outward, to the playground half-obscured by the house standing not a few meters away.
in the middle of it all stands a swing, one working, and the other is rusted, broken, twined to the metal bar it hangs from.
despite of a lone swing seat, children are playing.
the sun is almost setting, overhead is littered with clouds, the powder-blue sky peeking through the gaps of fluff.
underneath all the blue, a vast expanse of yellow sky like buttermilk.
the rain was not expected. but it came. i glance outside and the children are gone in an instant.
i sit there listening to the song i hummed. i ache. i long. i feel heavy.
and yet, despite the rain, one lone child returns to the playground. then, he begins to swing, indifferent to the pouring drops.
i feel my mind begin to reason, begin to parse a symbolism for the rain, the swing, the child, the lonely me in my room looking out the window.
i feel my brain scramble to find meaning to the mysterious and yet comforting melancholy.
to make a very simple scene meaningful, even if i am just an observer.
in my melancholic corner, i try to weave beauty between the mundanity of what i saw.
put it into words, snap a picture, find a meaning and tether it into this vapid afternoon.
but i will not remember the view, nor the meaning. instead, i will remember these words. and i will remember the feeling.
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
kianamaiart
areudirty
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
stormborns
