Wednesday, 2 October 2013

One day I hope to write like this. I hope to be able to capture the exact feeling with words, colours and images like she does. Because it must be so beautiful yet tragic the way she sees and feels the world to be able to write like this. To be able to feel and experience things that drive and push her to say these things. 

I’ve lost a lot of people over the years. Not in a silly break-up sense, but in a they’re gone from the face of the goddamn earth sense. This conversation took place a few years back during one of those dark times, and the boy with whom it took place probably saved my life a little bit if ya know what I mean. I think I’ve talked about him on here a few times or at least alluded to his existence — he was the boy who helped me understand that we’re all dying to live and living to die and it’s hard when our last chance to live is also our first. The boy whose voice rose like smoke and dripped like ink. The reason my favourite smells are cinnamon and turpentine. He could hear colours and see sounds and I used to think what a goddamn beautiful life he must lead. He told me my words sounded like wish white and sky blue, sometimes earl grey, and I always wondered whether he meant the tea or the shade or perhaps some half-hemmed amalgam in between. He was also the boy I dreamed about for nearly two years, and not in a lovesick puppydog kind of way. I like to think it was more of in a this is an important moment in your life Molly and you should remember it kind of way, but I don’t really know and it doesn’t really matter. The dream was always the same —

“I don’t get you at all.”
(My nose twitches.)
“Why not?”
“You’re just so much weirder than everyone else.”
“You’re really hard to be around.”
“Because I paint the same thing over and over?”
(He sighs, looking past me.)
“No…because you’re like…haunted. You are so haunted. And everyone feels it.”
I don’t know, sometimes I wonder where he is or what he’s doing, but people like him, people like that, they have this proclivity for finding their way back into our lives, so I don’t really concern myself with the details.

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