Welcome to the first—official!—day of autumn. Sweaters, rejoice! Perhaps that explains the nightmare I had yesterday: I traveled from a post-apocalyptic movie set (where the director couldn’t get a car to cooperate) to a giant castle that was getting flooded by eighty-foot high waves and, inexplicably, snakes; to inside that castle, which was actually my middle school, and where my English teacher accosted me to explain what I had learned, which was, I think, “parables and decorum”; and then backstage, at the opening night of a play by Radio 1’s Nick Grimshaw about the origins of One Direction, attended by the long-haired variant of Harry Styles. At some point in the performance, the printer stopped working, so I had to get dressed in a medieval outfit and take over.
This nightmare SENT me. I want to be there actually, though.
Also, "If I get better, then my past becomes my past: I have to let it be. And I don’t want that. I want what happened to be my fault, my mistake, because then I can fix it: it’s my responsibility, my failure." Thank you for your words. Your incredible words. Always so beautifully strung together, and so very often what my heart feels without my brain being able to summarise in the ways you can.
I heal with your words so often. The times I don't, I am getting what I need to steer me to the healing. Your words are so often tonic. Thank you.
This nightmare SENT me. I want to be there actually, though.
Also, "If I get better, then my past becomes my past: I have to let it be. And I don’t want that. I want what happened to be my fault, my mistake, because then I can fix it: it’s my responsibility, my failure." Thank you for your words. Your incredible words. Always so beautifully strung together, and so very often what my heart feels without my brain being able to summarise in the ways you can.
I heal with your words so often. The times I don't, I am getting what I need to steer me to the healing. Your words are so often tonic. Thank you.
xx