it was about 2 and a half months ago, i was on the train going back to the big city, feeling familiar pricks in my eyes and on my arms as i watched the countryside i pretended was my home but which really was the next county up, drive past my window, and i was feeling low to leave it. i also felt a sweet sweet pain (the pain...), realising, undeniably, that i still loved the boy who had told me it was over. and the fields were sweet green, ripping themselves from my eyes and leaving me, and the pain in my flesh was sweet green, the pain of people ripping themselves from your soul and leaving you.
trouble is, its been over 2 months, tomorrow i have another train to catch, to the big city, i will again have to watch the sweet fields hurtled backwards away from me, and i just know that i will be sitting there, knowing that i still love this boy. the boy for whom it has all been over for so long now. my first love, my best friend, the person who has been most intimate with me in the world. and i will have to sit on that train, knowing that for the last 2 or 3 years i have been cruel to the person i love most in the world, and that it has finally caught up with me, and that all the memories i hold dearest in the world, and all the moments which have been the holiest, the most divine, the moments where for once in my life i have felt beautiful and safe and deeply calm, are now all worthless trash.
and my words here sound like trash, trash anyone would write on any blog... which is sad... because to me this is real enough and sharp enough that it blinds me to the vast expanse of shining sea, to secret coves and shady lanes, to the cottage gardens and unexpected streams, to the calls of the great tit, the blackbird and the chaffinch, too blinded by tears in my eyes and my mind to notice any of the things i hold dearest today. experiences i should have been storing and remembering for all the times i won't see them... but it wasn't even possible. too much heavy pain.