something familiar, something new
These words don't present themselves with such convenience anymore. Nor does the happiness or disappointment that often accompanies them. Yet there's comfort in the uncertainty. It hints of something in between that of love and hatred. And is often found in memories of pixel and ink. A feeling that I know, but hardly understand. Captured in fever dreams and beaded bracelets. The lips of former lovers touching those of others and the innocent burying their mothers. I want so badly to press my finger to it. For it's so close. To stop asking and start accepting. To smile without reason. Breathe without restriction. And to live like I once did. I'm almost there.