The 25℃ Start

by , Thursday May 25, 2017
The 25℃ Start

These Fishes in the Sea, They're Staring at Me

A story of book reviews, sitting in nothing but shorts, bad haircuts and starts that keep stopping

It works if you start with me.  Shall we say, Cough Syrup - Young the Giant?

A dark world aches for a splash of the sun.

 

I am baptised in light.  It catches in my mascara that I scrub away with chipped nails.  My shirt is slick with sweat, and my hair stands on end.  There is a very lovely thing in life, although I suppose from the wrong eyes it must seem so bad.  The world reclaims, it's in its magesty.  When we praise summer for all the life it brings, we over look the weeds that climb into our porch, or the vines that strangle our late grandmother's home, or the ocean rust on our childhood bikes.  We think it's beautiful, the life.  But the life reclaims, and it reclaims, and if we are drowned by the bellowing sea for melting the ice, so be it.  The world does not belong to us, we belong to it, isn't that the way?  My lungs are flooded with wind carried petals, old leaves tumble over the toes of my boots, the brambles wave me home.

 

Change.  Dog Days Are Over - Florence and the Machiene.

You can't carry it with you if you want to survive.

 

Anyway, I think a better start isn't as pretty as the day out.  It's a story of being ugly.  Hideous even.  Firey hair, short, scalping.  Feeling trapped behind a body that isn't mine, surely?  No, I'm pretty, right?  It's stupid, yes, but something in me holds an ugly scar, and I sometimes wish for nothing more that to keep my lips locked but proper.

Then again, if I had that, would I still be seething at those who I say I love from the surface up?  And would I be nothing but a lovely shell, hallow casing baked in long hair and pretty curves?  I suppose it doesn't matter much, this is who I am after all.  Seventeen for a week, and this is who I've made myself.  Ugly, but filling.  That's enough for now.  Time is kind, I'll grow out again.

 

Okay, let's get better.  365 Fresh - Triple H

Your sleeping sixth sense will open its eyes because of me.

 

Finally, I think I'll do a book review a week.  Or maybe four per month, just to not ruin some notifications.

This summer will be nice.  Without a great look into the Irish education system, I can say that this year I begin my final cycle of school.  A year from now my best friends will be leaving for art college.  A year after, I'll join them in leaving but not in art, or maybe art, gimme some time to think about it.

I know I'll do a bit here and there, but imagine making a dress, learning french, dying my hair blonde and black, getting a job?  It's time I stop stopping, and actually start before it's too late.
Well, we can dream. 

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