terminal velocity

The journey lasts an hour, by turns moving and bittersweet, a mixtape without a name that’s possibly the most thoughtful collection of music anyone has ever given to me. It’s the addiction I’ve been waiting for. Proof that I can still be understood when a feeling is shared if not a history.

Yet new songs on repeat don’t define this moment, cause I can’t tell when one moment ends and the next begins anymore. There’s no sense of permanence in anything. I don’t know whether to be scared or relieved to know that everything will inevitably change.

view of Mississauga, Ontario

Shawn thinks I’m plummeting towards rock bottom cause I need to prove to myself that I can pull myself out. The idea was on the very tip of my consciousness, and it’s getting harder to deny how right he is. I’ve always been a person who needs to explore the limits of the possible. I just wonder whether I’ll survive the fall.

One comment

  1. I once had a friend that would routinely remark “SCARY DOUGHNUTS!” about strange or desperate stuff going on in her life. I asked her where the hell that came from. She meant the driver-training kind of doughnuts done in the parking lot, learning how to pull out of a skid.

    This post makes me say SCARY DOUGHNUTS! to myself about you. Both the scary bad and scary good.

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