merry christmas

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.” 
– The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint Exupéry

You longed to press the erase button, until everything and everyone was gone. Because knowing this love, and then losing it all, was perhaps a thousand times more painful than never loving at all. At least then, your heart could be salvaged: locked in a steel cage, and grow cold with absence and loneliness. You’d be numb, but at least you would never have to experience the agony of this most vital organ (the one tentatively connected, by a million little spider-strings, to your soul) being torn to ribbons, collected, and lit on fire. You would be alone, but you would be safe.

And she rebuked these beliefs, tiny creature with great ideals.
'It was worth it all along. Love will return; like the wild birds in Spring,’ she would stroke your face and make promises far too great for a seventeen year old girl. 
How could you tell her that you had nothing left? Only flowers growing from your chest, marking anniversaries of death. You had tried to turn over the stones, but had neither the strength, nor the courage to unearth old secrets and move such weight. How could you tell her that you had relented so long ago? That your hands have grown used to being alone, that all the love lines had faded from your palms.
But still, she continues with whispers and tears, and it crosses your mind, far too late, that perhaps you are not the only one she is trying to convince.
She continues, gentle and pleading, with hands (trembling) clasped and face turned to the sky:

'Your heart will rise again, a phoenix from ashes.’

--

Merry Christmas!
The last week has been so kind to me. Senior year/University entrance scores were released, and 99+ (from a range of 0 to 99.95) was such a nice surprise to wake up to. I had my mother beside me that morning; shaky hands finally revealed something that I could be proud of, despite everything that has happened this year. I swear I heard my grandmother's voice the night before (though it may have been nerves and fatigue and simply my longing for her that led me to dream). 

Results aside, I've been doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping, having long existential conversations, borrowing books from the library, making breakfast foods and watching several wonderful movies (found copies of The Royal Tenenbaums, Breakfast at Tiffany's and The Virgin Suicides). Friday was spent in the city; at the gardens for a picnic, and then listening to music and sitting by the river. A day for slow songs with simple key signatures – minimal accidentals, and light melodies. A day for feeling content and for feeling infinite.

A lot more to say, but for another time. I do hope everyone has the most wonderful holidays - I don't think I will post until next year (strange to say that, isn't it?).

Love, always,

x