Yay. So much for preparing for SYTYCD auditions…
nostalgia contentment melancholy disenchantment hope
n. The nebulous feeling that visits you at 2am, dancing around in the shadows of your mind, effortlessly escaping your attempt at describing it well and good; it lingers – in the pauses between breaths, the crevices between light and dark, the grey area dividing heart and mind – and sets up residence in your soul, tattooing itself onto the inside of your eyelids so it never leaves you for the next 30 days.
n. The quiet settling of the heart as it abandons all restlessness and allows a smile to turn up the corners of your mouth; mostly felt while resting your feet after a tiring day, thankful for the family that drives you insane with frustration and sheer love; while sharing inside jokes with old friends you have over for dinner, everyone a tableau of memories; and afterwards, while lying in bed tracing your lover’s clavicles, like a cartographer would a map.
n. Often a huge wave that unexpectedly crashes over you and leaves you scrambling for salvation; known for resembling the overwhelming urge to bawl into your bowl of soup for no reason, the dull ache that sits in your chest every morning you wake and miss a former lover, the emptiness that engulfs when you wake in the middle of the night and sit in darkness for a few seconds, adjusting to the loneliness.
n. The fog that weighs heavy on your mind as the year draws to a close; an eclectic mix of getaway dreams, unfulfilled promises and the faded sheen on the glitz and glamour of the Good Old Days, echoing the last bursts of a firework and bringing with it the occasional tendency to stare into blank space, wondering how the promise of an inspiring year slipped from your grasp.
n. The light that slips in through the cracks, bringing with it the familiar wisp of Possibility and a new start; those metaphorical cartwheels you do when you look at the clean, bare calendar of a promising new year, each square in the month waiting for you to fill with lofty dreams and secret plans; the quiet knowledge that your heart will heal and you will put one foot in front of the other and you will be okay; but mostly, the soft but steady song your heart sings as you go about with a glint in your irises, once again seeing magic in the mundane.
I would post pictures but I got too excited while taking them and now they’re all blurry…
Does this mean I can play Christmas music now?