“I elect something I can love and absorb myself in it.” – Anaïs Nin, Winter, 1931
February, my month of thwarted longing and despair. The dark days, the rainy days. The lucid dreams and wild silence. It felt like an eternity of feelings abandoned. Unwillingly becoming serenaded whilst the nocturnal melodies of mind trembled with the longing for somewhere else, someone else. You see, I fall easily. Feel easily. I’ve forged an entire career out of feeling too much. And in that moment, all needs become secondary. I lose, lose, lose myself. I have no desire for anything other than the thing that has it’s knuckles to my throat. And I accept it. And I live with it. And I wait for it pass. Until the next thing comes.