i look at the setting sun as though seeing it for the last time. as though the landscape will never be awashed in such bright light again. i run my gaze over the mountains lining the horizon, trying to memorise their ridges and slopes, the way snow settles into their creases during winter. often i catch myself thinking how lucky i am. to breathe this fresh air every morning on my way to school, to go on runs in the woods, to be surrounded by nature and travel and eat fruits from the back garden. things that cannot be taken for granted. i am living a life that some would only dream of, those whom i left behind a half a globe away. i can be happy, and spend the last years of my youth as freely as possible, instead of fighting myself, wasting time worrying, feeling unfulfilled . . . for my hands cradle my burdens, unsure where to put them down. they are always the reason i don't have room for happiness, but now i am tired and i want to leave all the little problems and insecurities behind.
vivid colours paint my dreams, everything i see is spun out of light; there is so much beauty in this world and i want to find myself immersed in it all. i want to embody the bold moon, i want to forget the little things that distract me from my goal of happiness and just believe that everything is good, and the wounds will heal with patience. gratitude lingers upon my fingertips, as my lungs pull in forest air, as i watch the stars from my bedroom window, and as the sun bleeds into the black horizon and i press my nose against the windowpane — the brown fields, the rich honey light, the bits of music escaping into the attic hallway. i want to remember it all. i go through every day as if it were the last, already seeing with a nostalgic tint, sensing the presence of something new, something vaster, flying toward my way from beyond those mountains. but until then, i will live exuberantly.
8.5.18
