The end of spring 3

Things have been brighter. Since summer merged with spring, and the warmth increased, things have. Not just through sunshine, though that too. The roads are not black any more, but grey. Our house, white and blue, looks whiter and greyer on sunny days. I remind myself that I am colourblind.

Things have been brighter elsewhere too. We are all a little broken. Chipped, wounded, fractured, or simply damaged. I don’t think they make glues for us. Glues we can really use. It probably wouldn’t help. We keep losing the broken pieces, or loving them to distortion.

Looking out into blue skies and white clouds, one has to avert their eyes now. It’s the sun. The summer sun. The oriental summer is rather bad. Uncomfortable. Sweat under the collars. Literally.

Look, I know I have it all. We all do, don’t we? And all our pathetic sorrows are pleas for attention. And things have been brighter. I read through articles faster, and remember my unmindful parts. It was a feeling of two years ago; something they call younger perhaps. The medicine is working. The worms in my head, family heirlooms I inherited, are silent. Not silent, but less active, for sure. A little tired perhaps.

My dreams are a little absurd. I don’t know. I dreamt an acquaintance having sex. It was odd, voyeuristic, and of course, fun. The man seemed different in the dream. But also the same. I thought I didn’t remember my dreams. Turns out I was just young.

I was thinking how women taste. I don’t remember the taste of the first woman I kissed. She was rather forgettable. But, I haven’t forgotten her. I have forgotten most of the men I kissed, fewer though they are. Their tastes were different. But their lips were similar. I didn’t like men.

Things are a little clearer. Much clearer than I remember them being in a while. I can see. But I have been happier, before. I thought the clearer I saw, the happier I would be. Turns out, it’s a little more complicated than that.

But hey, I can see…




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