All those awards, they go to you

Since my break-up with Alastair, all I've longed for was one more chance to fix the things that I thought I did incorrectly--the times I thought I fucked up. I had kept hope, and telling myself that he wasn't my future was difficult. It still is difficult.

The sun set early today, hidden behind a dull sky--there's an orange hue smeared somewhere in the horizon. Whilst walking through the quad I began thinking of Vivaldi's winter movement. And then came spring and melted the snow and the roots grew once more and our lips were warm enough to whisper the dreams of the impossible.

I was alone in my room, where there was hardly any light, and sitting at my computer I mindlessly searched for my books--and suddenly, he began talking to me...and I derived the greatest satisfaction from signing off. And all I could say was this one's for you, and all the pain you've caused...

Those were different times--the warm kisses and forgiving smiles. I've been kept awake at night--too many times, trying to figure things out and replay old arguments, and find where it was my fault. I'd wonder and pray and dream that somehow he'd come back and that I'd wake up and it'd all be a dream.

Then the velvet blur of night would dry with the morning sun and the angels' wings would lift and I'd be faced with reality. I ran around, drunken, searching for the forgotten dusk, consumed by slicing memories.

and they just wouldn't fucking go away

Awake and naked and clad in my iron vulnerability. It's sad to remember and unnatural to forget. Neither the sea-breeze nor the familiar sounds of the violin or cello nor the brilliant dances with the hopeful stars--neither could help me.

And the passing of time is deafening.

I'm 19 and turning 20 very soon. I am double-majoring in Economics and Political Science I've resigned to the fact that life, like silent ebbs, is implacable--uncontrollable and even fickle.

Though whatever happens...he no longer belongs in my life.

This particular chapter's left such a ghost...

aeka at 1:18 p.m.