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being wistful for a moment


may 21, 2021


that flat spring evening light is fading away right now; the sad, flat, blue suburban light as the sun slowly drips away past my neigbour's roof.


i've talked about this time of day before, and i will again, because it's when i can't relax, i can't sit and breathe the spring air outside because it's too full of swingsets and spaceships and dinosaurs and tea.


every fairy tale and vivid dream comes back to me in a sharp and unforgiving medium. every colour strikes me as my brain searches for corrisponding memories to haunt me.


every soft word my mother had spoken to me, and every hope my father had for me, it's all played back in the drone of the freeway outside my window.


every book i hadn't read stares at me from across the room.


every single moment of time that i had wasted adds an ounce of poison to my cup, the cup that i drink from in evenings like this.


every object that has had the misfortune of entering into my life calls out to me, loudly... i just want to hold them; every last one of them, and apologize. i know they're just things, but they're wasted things.


i want to grasp my shinai and break into tears, and apologize for never joining that kendo club.


i want to put a hand on my computer and apologize for not being good enough to get into computer science at university.


i want to hold my bass and apologize to it, for procrastinating so much.


my ocarina, my camera, my skateboard, my shoes, my rubiks cube, my sewing needles, my shoes. everything was wasted.


i want to hold myself, and apologize for wasting everything. i'm really, really sorry.

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