hallucinogenic.

I still keep this blog alive in hopes that you might perhaps one day find me. You always used to, every single time I changed my URL or deleted and recreated a blog, or switched domains. I never knew how; I always thought you must have been able to read my mind.

Thinking now, I realise that wasn’t the only thing about you I didn’t know. I wanted so much more with you and our time was too short. There will be others who leave their mark, but never the same way or place you left yours. Nobody ever has and nobody ever will capture my heart the way you did. None of what I write here now is new, but on long nights such as this with only the voices in my head for company, you are the first apparition to materialize.

And even as someone new takes center stage and becomes the basis for how I lead my life, I find I am still unable to leave your ghost behind. I’m still not used to the idea that you’re no longer here.

Today marks returning to a memory. I have forgotten life in this world that protected me as I grew, a fragile rose under a bell jar. As it pushed me out into the real world, I began to forget all it had shielded me from, and also all the hail it had let upon me.

I began to forget life in a time outside of time, where I lived and breathed etheral images and echoing words. It wasn’t long before I began to relish the slow erasure of all the bittersweet memories still chained to this world. But you exist still, a standing bridge between our sheltered world and my grey and dismal one.

I wish I could forget you, give you up like I’ve been forced to give up my ghosts. Yet, I can’t. I wish instead that you’d take me back to a time we once knew. I wish to rewind time so I can tell you every thought I can pull from my head. And above all else, I wish that you wouldn’t change to become too foreign a concept to grasp.

Along the walk from the train station to my school is a wide expanse of grassland that stretches about half a kilometre in every direction. Today, while walking towards the station, I noticed patches of blooming mimosas dotting the bright green canvas with darker greens. The wind picked up and my skirt flew up; the lovegrass bent all in one direction, and the mimosas closed up. It was then that I thought of you; you who were so quick to shun contact and so afraid to open up.

Your heart seems to me to be a field of mimosas, every little breeze and every slight touch triggering your defences. Will you stop being so wary only when you’ve withered, my love?

Don’t you?

Once more, you have vanished. I hope you’re safe, wherever you are.
My heart will surely fail fast with the pain I heap onto it.