3/10/2014
It is at time like this I feel so melancholy for the times I will experience. For the time that I will lose. For the time that I will leave behind. For the feelings that I will feel in the future, for the emptiness that I will feel for thinking about this exact time, this wholeness that I feel from being loved by my environment so much, for this moment that I will lose, for these friends that I will leave behind.
At the afternoon. This heavy limbo between sleepy day and glamorous night.
At the afternoon. When the golden ray of sunshine hit the right spots, turning some of the objects into ethereal-like entities. These glittering delightful items, spotlighted for mere moments––the true epitome of the term 'from the rags to riches.'
(16:47)
I know I will never have this again. That this silence between my future and my past would surely swiftly turn into invisible ashes. It feels so completely empty. Like these irreplaceable moments would soon become just one of the nameless days in my life that I would only look back once or twice––if ever––in the future. That I would soon not become this person anymore. My friends would not be the same anymore. I would leave this place that I have grown to love. I would soon forget the feeling of contentment that I found in this bleak small city life.
Perhaps one day in the future, when I would be found huddling under a heavy yellow cloak that would bear the same resemblance as that year's most sought after design thinking about this exact circumstance. I would find myself, while warming up with the coat and a cup of hot gunpowder green tea, it was only the circumstance that helped me grow my fondness of this bleak small city life. Or mayhap the reason was that I have found friends––and enemies––that would turn my previously dull life into more interesting one. Perhaps.
Perhaps one day in the future, when I would be found huddling under a heavy yellow cloak that would bear the same resemblance as that year's most sought after design thinking about this exact circumstance. I would find myself, while warming up with the coat and a cup of hot gunpowder green tea, it was only the circumstance that helped me grow my fondness of this bleak small city life. Or mayhap the reason was that I have found friends––and enemies––that would turn my previously dull life into more interesting one. Perhaps.
In these rare moments of golden rays that turn my skin into its most exquisite form, I confess that I am afraid of leaving this moment. I am afraid of the unforeseen future that would bring certain things like dull sunlight or cold friends. I am afraid to find something that is as not quite as lovely as this moment right now.
There are immeasurable aspects that I have regarded that make me love everything that this moment have to offer… my full and returned heart is one of them. This heart is unusually filled with the equal amount of hope and melancholy. A wonderfully surprising melancholy for the time that I will lose.