Here’s to lazy Sundays spent listening to the rain and talking to great people.

I read today that the average heartbreak lasts for around 12.4 months. I don’t actually know if the article debunked or supported the claim with any facts—everything beyond the headline was hidden behind a paywall—but judging from my own experience things definitely seem…different after almost a year.

Of course there’s still a certain fondness for that person and with it lingering pain, but the days of not being able to get up and thinking I’d remain forever broken are getting less and less. Just like death and change, loss is a part of life.

Today is a good day. A day of progress. That can change with the lighting up of a screen or the gentle tap of my watch on my arm—or even nothing specific at all, but I’m learning bit by bit that the change of a mood, the resurfacing of a memory, or even the reopening of an old wound doesn’t mean that I’m back where I started from.

In fact, the fact that my mood can worsen at all is a reminder that it got better, that there are good days and even if they are past, nothing and nobody can take them.

Heute hat sie laut angeklopft, die Melancholie eines endenden Sommers.

Some days I wonder, if this pain will ever leave completely or if it will forever be a part of me. Then again, the fact that I’m no longer all absorbed by it, that I am still here to wonder at all gives me hope.

Wenn man nicht mehr weiß, welcher Wochentag ist, ist man im Urlaub angekommen – und wenn die Pillenbox leerer wird, neigt er sich dem Ende zu…

It pains me how this home away from home turned into a stranger’s place. How all these beautiful memories are spoiled by bitterness. Quite literally a wonderful piece of earth overgrown with weeds of selfishness.

Trusting still is really hard. I don’t want to live in terror of being replaced. I know it’s unfair to judge all by the actions of one.

But fear is a monster with sharp claws and jealousy likes to nestle in the wounds they leave.

Subversion of the Expected.

odyssey

an odyssey of trains and cancellations

midnight passed at a lonely station

a ride spent staring at a stranger’s face

half hidden by a black mask those eyes

remind me of the lakes framed by gold

though I know they belong to a different time

and the chin behind the mask is cleft

like that of a crush long past

a talk later with a youth full of energy and openness

I finally am back home

determined to end the night with a smile

for I realised I wouldn’t trade my past for anything

despite the pain the fear the estrangement

my future is unwritten and I—

I hold the pen

Friday nights with rolling thunder leading into sleepy Saturday mornings spent listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain. Mind bleak and grey like the high fog grazing the mountaintops rendered invisible by the blank buildings of the city outside.