everything else: inside my head
dear internet,
it’s “i don’t believe people ever change but i’ve changed,” it’s “i’m the same, i’m the same, i’m trying to change,” it’s “people never change but i will,” it’s sheila heti’s “but my life keeps changing. my life keeps changing!” it’s knowing what we’d put on the bingo cards of each other’s behaviour, and peeling an orange for whoever’s in the room, and realising the only poem i have by heart is mad girl’s love song. it’s five years ago walking to the market to buy a single espresso tonic and an ice cream for the walk back—eight years ago my supermarket with the smell of fish and the yuzu juice in the refrigerator section and outside always a confused rush of loud people, a sense of perpetual summer—hours spent under my grandmother’s bed with her yellowed copies of women’s weekly, skipping to the romance stories—rehearsing my jazz ballet examination piece on the terrace of my dance teacher’s building, no music, just her quiet, final, endless “again.” really it’s all just throughline and surprise, and your hot room with the blinds down, and the flowers in your phone camera, and the people you love.
love,
t