At a fucking crossroad
I hate being reminded of you. It feels intrusive. The past comes out of nowhere and rears it's unwelcomed head into the present. seemingly so out of place. I had white wine today. I was looking to escape with a book and a journal and found myself dining alone. A new hobby I've developed. I sipped on white wine. Suddenly I thought of Cabbage Town. Fillet mignon and maple salmon with lemon herb sauce. Dark oaky room lit by candles. The memory tastes like white wine.
Why should the past feel intrusive? It's a big part of my life. A part of who I am. I'm letting you in now. I'm letting winter sink in. It's just as much to do with my dad. Loss is hard for me and it's that familiar weather again. funeral weather.
Why do I still do this to myself? every year. a progress report. how'd I do dad?
crossroads. past. present. future. possibility.
Why should the past feel intrusive? It's a big part of my life. A part of who I am. I'm letting you in now. I'm letting winter sink in. It's just as much to do with my dad. Loss is hard for me and it's that familiar weather again. funeral weather.
Why do I still do this to myself? every year. a progress report. how'd I do dad?
crossroads. past. present. future. possibility.