I've missed you.

Rebellious, resentful, unfulfilled, unresponsible.
Lazy, parasseusse, pigro, faul.

Chez moi: disappointed mother, jars of cookies, mess, book, sleep, sad.

Then, inspiration from a dusty corner: my saxophone, untouched for twelve months, serving as a bedside table. Black case, shinybeautifulperfect exterior. God, how I've missed you.

Nervously starting from the very beginning - books from years past, scales. Arpeggios. Slurs, eighth notes, treble clefs, three/four time - it all rushes back into those nooks and crannies, broken glass melting and reforming. Fitting exactly the way it should. It feels right. A clear, full sound, echoing downstairs; that lovely, inexplicable experience. Reverent notes.

It's impossible to describe it. Gold shimmery shiny reflections in the bell, reverberating whole notes, stacking sixteenths. Fulfillment.

Suffice it to say that
I've missed the music.

Conundrum of the moment

Enigma, puzzle, problem, worry. Jigsaw pieces litter my mind, and I can't decide which way they fit together.

Neurons and nerve endings fray as they attempt to fix the shattered fragments, to mix the pieces of my problems into solutions. Answers, leading to cobblestone roads. It's hard to follow them if they've not yet materialised.

A side note: almost poetry, not quite prose - i wonder, can you find meaning between the metaphors?

alive, alert.

Late night exhaustion, inadvertent sleep. Accidentally snoozed last night away; missed homework, missed shower, missed consciousness. Dragonfly dreams. Awoke at six to the shriek of the alarm clock, fully clothed, surrounded by a mess of books, purse, and mittens. I had to make up the shower too quickly for my liking. Cascading water soothed my early-morning wooziness, though.

Plus side: alert, razorsharp senses due to sufficient sleep (as opposed to my usual brickwallbrain).

mirror, mirror.

they torture me, those reflections,
who are you, really? who am i?
what is this image, this paper wax cutout of myself? this masquerade party is missing an emotion and a truth or two.

what a mess, mess, mess, can't I just be myself? who are you to judge me with your expectations. I can't meet them; this sloth-like being can only lumber through molasses.

image: ben tour.

to start anew

..a frightening thought, although one I've become quite familiar with. I'm constantly discarding the old and starting over - changing schools, letting go of friends, changing the hue of my hair. I let them fall away, let my mind fall apart. No regrets at first - excitement at the change, that insatiable itch for something new - then, slowly, I can feel it. Aches. Pains. A dull throbbing in my heart. Missing him missing her missing you. Missing that place, that time, that experience, that reaction. That smile, that laughter. Missing out. Pieces of me are scattered all over the globe, bits of memories and belongings of my heart that drip through my fingertips like fire. Burning.

Starting a blog is, I suppose, another beginning. I used to write often - poetry, short stories - but have slowly let it dwindle away. Another loss. Perhaps this will help me regain that small talent, that joy I used to express. A way to organise my thoughts?

Farewell for now.