Hoping [h.s.]

Lingering Distaste.

song for this chapter:
Trouble - Coldplay
(link added if you'd like to listen while reading!)
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July 22
(3 weeks later)

Jarelle

There are moments in our existence where we experience periods of joy, excitement, overall contentment.

In those moments we experience the full bliss of forgetting every negative aspect going on in our day-to-day life and simply focus on the present being and your surroundings, what caused that feeling.

You see the crinkles in your loved one's eyes and the smile lines that seem impossible to ever fade away. You hear the echoes of their laugh across the room and can't help but feel the contagiousness of it.

Times like those seem to define what our life was truly molded to be.

Times like those just feel like the clock just... stopped, even.

But it really doesn't, and that's not even the scariest part of it all.

Whether we like it or not, that sorrowful notion creeps through the cracks of our periods of joy and takes over our every braincell.

It's those moments behind closed doors when it truly dawns on you how much grief you feel.

That's the thing that's actually funny, feeling grief without actually grieving a loved one.

Sometimes we are just truly grieving the person we used to be before this darkness seeped through the little crack. Or maybe we just grieve the person who we once thought we would become, who we fantasized about in our childhood bedrooms while playing with our toys, in our own little world.

You wake up every single day after catching up on a couple of hours of sleep, dreading the fact that you have to do it all over again.

You're so strung and fascinated by the idea of not wanting to feel or think that you've barely even acknowledged the gift of even being alive.

As a child, you're taught about always aiming high and dreaming big. You dream of being a doctor, a firefighter, a baker, a teacher, the list goes on and on.

As you grow up, you grow out of phases and realize the reality of a lot of things, ultimately resulting in you changing career paths along the way.

I don't wanna be corny and say I was different, but I was one of those very rare kids who's dream career never wavered.

A flower shop was something I never stopped chasing from day one.

My love for flowers stemmed from every single moment I shared with my mother in her most beloved garden on our porch.

She always taught me how love was like caring for a flower. You can look after it from afar and hope it lives, or you can talk to it, water it properly, put them under proper sunlight and make sure their glimmer never gives out.

Same goes for ourselves and the ones we decide to share that love with.

Love doesn't stand on a pilar of damaged roots. It may hold onto the little strength its branches have, but once a rustling wind rushes by, it'll crumble to ashes, leaving a trail of dismay for our feet to trail over on our routinely treks.

It's only so long before you're the one struggle to hold onto that single thread of strength before it snaps, leaving you plummeting in the depths of despair with no pillow to break your fall.

After spending a few days juggling between having a meal or paying my rent and bills, Harry offered I stay over at his as long as I needed to until things get better again.