malloreigh

somedays
aren't yours at all
they come and go as if they're someone else's days
they come and leave you behind
someone else's face
and it's harsher than yours
and colder than yours

regardless, these days have been beautiful and i'm full of cheer and wonder. while i claim that september is my favourite month (all swirling leaves and warm air with crisp breezes and bright colours and new beginnings and that wistful clinging to the last days of summer, that desperation to make all the good memories we'll need to tide us over another winter, another damp and grey void) april is a close second.

april in vancouver is pouring rain (filled with all the passion that the winter months lack), pelting the asphalt and filling the air with the kind of humidity that lets the heady scent of flowers linger, sharp sideways yellow sunlight in the evenings, rainbows and thick clouds, cherry and plum blossoms drifting through the air like snow, minty green new leaves peeking at me through puddles as i coast on two wheels like a ghost or the wind or swooping bird. it's the first few attempts at going to the beach or having picnics in the park, cold hands and damp grass but we try to grin and bear it because god damn it, it's spring.

my goal is to live as much as i can, experience everything, feel all of the feelings i can feel and immerse myself entirely in everything around me.

i hate the numbing timesink that is a workday, gazing longingly out the window at the distorted sunshine hitting asphalt. the apathy that comes with routine - i hate not noticing the things around me because i've seen them so many times. every time they are different and i need, need, need to see it.

boredom is my natural enemy.



never settle.