I am going to take a risk because I’ve been meaning to write. I’m partially blinded by my momentary desires, fleeting trivialities, so I lose the momentum. there was finella in 2008, all enthusiastic and scared. finella in 2009 was a whirlpool of uncertainties and inaccuracies. 2010 wasn’t my year and everything leaned into consistency and dependability. I am traveling back in time and these voices softly carry me past the unfamiliar houses and the abandoned playgrounds. I am floating unintentionally, so swift, so delicate. hold my hands, so cold, so cold.
so I whisper:
take me back to that summer, all carefree and idle. give me back my innocence, my sensitivity, my positivism. in turn, I’ll show you who I am, what I can, and how I’m not. I’ll stay here, breathe, and live for a hundred years… ‘til my skin touches yours and my heart is left to need. I’ll remember that you’ve shown me that love is not a death foretold.
