Monday; I miss you
Hello, my favourites.
It’s been two whole months, and I can’t be sorry. I’m sorry about that, though. I’ve been a wreck. Things are missing. I’m missing things.
I’ve never been homesick in my life, but sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up and realise that there are these parts of me that I probably can’t ever fix to anywhere, which is okay most of the time. Lately it’s been less and less okay. I just have to move forward I guess.
Things are different, again. I can be as nonlinear, as self destructive, as pretentious as I like.
This time last year, we still talked about that rose tinted future. It’s kind of a sweet memory, really. I wish I just put everything into storage. I miss that kind of organised chaos I had going on. The photographer might not even remember taking this photo. I still have presents to send home.
Except I don’t have a home, I guess. That’s not really part of the equation.
I had an essay due two and a half hours ago. I haven’t finished it yet. But I miss my wall of window, three apartments ago. I miss my white tiles, and the dining table we had.
I miss my reference books. I even miss my shoeboxes of letters and knick knacks that are simultaneously too painful to throw away, or look at. I miss taking discarded shit and making art and art club and discarding art. I really miss art club.
I miss caring about things. Here, I only care about people. Which is good when you consider that I care entirely too much about all people and all things, but slightly not good when you consider that I’m slowly twisting myself into a hole I don’t think I can climb out of. I probably can. It seems more impossible when you’re down here, looking up.
It’s just been a long time.
This really is the first time I’ve ever missed places. Sydney is home after all. Nostalgia hits hard. It’s hard when situations change so fast and so sudden, but even that will change eventually.
La Sardina takes really nice photos, actually.
Things to do:
develop all the rolls of film currently sitting in my room
learn how to be alone
pack for the last Hoorah Barcelona trip time
do my laundry
write the four thousand papers that are due in the next two weeks
Onwards, my loves,