First, will you please play this song, then open the same link in a new tab?
I am scrolling the summery pages of my previous blog posts while listening to some Fleet Foxes with twenty minutes 'til Christmas. I'm not certain if my emotion(s) can be typified right now, or even drawn, through expression. I'm unsure if I miss certain people and different days of my summer that I lived, very, very fully, or if I'm just so overwhelmed with joy that this summer was the way it was. I cannot retrieve specifics from the past, as all things grow, as we all know, now especially. Just look.
My things and my items have been shipped to a different city. Another kind of bubble. Some other sort of fun. My new life in my new semesters is packaged tightly. I can see how it would be easy to get lost. Being home allows for reconnecting and revisiting the things I only thought I would potentially leave behind, although I knew those days would soon come. Don't frown, I like my new life. It is just very different now. Absence of preteen chaos, presence of adulthood, presence of the lake, even more so as an entity that is a friend to me.
"I miss summer." What does this entail? What is it caused by? Do you want to fetch within your memory, or would you rather cry and smile a smile of joy at the same time, knowing that your life was, and is good? Knowing that you are responsible for you?
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Will you now please, if you would like, explore through the old pages and months worth of my blog? If you were apart of the past summer, a very important part of my life, will you please take a moment to recognize your significance and the impact of your existence and your presence in my life alone? You've no idea, or do you?
Thank you, and I love you. Merry Christmas.
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I'm still reading at 2 in the morning. It's so surreal and neat that I remember exactly how I felt and how the sun looked and what it smelt like when I read about the things I wrote about in the summer. On August 17th, I remember where Paul was standing and where Rachel was sitting when Paul told me that we were going to make tuna melts for dinner. I also remember where each of us laid on the bumpy blanket in the park. I love life. I love being alive. I love recollecting. This is what I want to be doing right now. This is my favourite Christmas so far. I feel like it's going to be different, regardless of similar motions and conversations that unfold.
Reading back on my posts, I remember how each of my friends were and how they have developed. I remember what I have learned from my friends. On August 17th, from Paul I learned to try things new. I suggested one thing, he suggested another, and he just knew that downtown Oakville would be better than Burlington on that given night. And it was. Wasn't it. Note how that isn't a question.
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I want to host a poetry reading in my room next semester. And in my house next year. Yes.