right now the sun burns hot outside.
I’d began my day by writing a letter.
I’d taken a shower and snuggled into a pair of jeans that hug my body comfortably.
slipped on a shirt, left in my untouched cupboards.
whenever I come home the room is always bare.
party because my mother cleans it to freakish extents every time I’m about to return home
and partly because it’s empty of my life.
so this morning I spread the desk with my papers and books.
gave it colour.
and began every day like I normally would.
memories of my tortured summer flooded me as I went about the things I did:
writing a proposal… reading… a long drive with dad to offload some of our rubbish at the dump on the outskirts of Scottsdale.
it felt as though I’d picked up a book I’d stopped reading half way through.
the caravan, now empty of my sister’s life, had but a few remnants of her memories in it.
I gazed over the paintings we’d left on my last few days at home.
as the day got hotter, I decided to make the most of it.
took my book, and sprawled myself across the deck.
after finishing my book… I felt giddily full of something I couldn’t explain.
an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.
not just of the book, but of my own past memories of my summer.
I walked slowly to my room, ripping off my jeans.
And I put on a pink dress.
yes…. Pink.
the one I loved as a fifteen year old girl, dating her fifteen year old boyfriend in the summer of 2008.
I slipped back into the memories of a much happier heated summer.
as though, by finally wearing it I was fulfilling the summer that had just passed.
a summer, where I’d become too different and sad to wear a ridiculously pink dress.
I wasn’t unhappy due to self hatred, events or even annabelle’s departure.
I was unhappy due to my own fear of the year to come.
she’ll probably smile as she reads this, because it’s one of the quotes she hoped would make it to my blog:
“adult. elderly person. child. I’ll love you just the same. yes it’s scary, it’s lucky that you’re brave”
a message sent to me the night before i turned 18.
I had begun this year so fearful of what was to come.
so much so that I couldn’t enjoy the summer.
I was merely trying to get things done before the year unfolded.
not the reflection of the ‘brave’ girl that ruby sees.
yet here I am.
an adult, yes.
at the beginning of the end of year twelve.
with endless assignments.
and endless worries.
endless responsibilities.
endless meetings and tasks.
endless stressing.
endless tired yawns.
yet, here I am,
completely peaceful.
wearing a fucking pink dress.
and feeling extraordinarily content.
happy.
I once wrote on my myspace profile that I like wearing my hair in one long braid.
which is only half true.
I don’t like the way the braid looks,
however I like the way it feels.
And I suppose that’s what my life has become.
from the outside, I don’t really like the way it looks.
rushing around, doing things, going places… always busy… and always tired.
however, I, without a doubt,
sure as hell,
truly do
love the way it feels.
