With ‘the season’ approaching, it is inevitable that ‘it’ sets in. Social media aside, the festivities alone will bring insurmountable... *sigh*
Longing for, lusting for, ‘that.’
The point is, holidays have this way of bringing many together and bringing the transition from emotional avoidance to thoughts of covering attachment to the temporal lobe.
With a blink, suddenly the independent girl squad of summer became every Ella Mai and Sabrina Claudio song in the winter.
“And then there was one,” the invisible narrator to reverberate.
The only band mate doltish enough to fall in love during the summer and using the holidays to recover. Execrable and ill-advised, might I add.
Yet, so... substantial.
There’s something about loving another during a season that the weather makes it difficult to feel glum.
The love is so different.
The emotional progression bears no stamp of time, no race to the 24th of November or the 25th of December.
Such an adventurous time to love, knowing there’s not a wrapped shiny bow to look forward to.
A period of loving everything that did not make sense.
Him, We, how ‘this’ came to be, why am I so fearless?
Asking the same questions now: how did ‘that’ end up this way, how is he, why was I so fearless?
All to pestle myself with the thought that I cannot be the only side of ‘us’ that is feeling this way!
Two of our favorite nights together to replay, where emotional distance and separation would be the least likely prediction.
How can I be the product of your “my girl” boasting introductions yet the demise to the same notion?
How could I be the causation to tears at the confirmation of what you uncertainly wanted and your regretful 4 AM missed calls?
Yet the last life form you want to further acknowledge.
You are right. Next topic, to flush my contemplation.
Next moment- I should call him.
(The internal cheek slaps)
Near the fireplace, please.
Table for one.