August. Something’s in the air. August feels significant this year if not any other year, I don’t know whether that’s because it truly is, or if it’s just because Taylor Swift has taken over every inch of my brain and I’m okay with that. August has been a horrific month, when I think about it. For me in my life personally…lots of death, lots of diagnoses, lots of illness, hurt, grief…pain. One thing after another. But I’m not sad. I still think August is really beautiful, none of it is really touching me. Isn’t August poetic and whimsical? I wrote a letter to August on the first of its month, I talked about the hope I had for it, the things I wanted to do, the things I hoped would happen. I guess I felt like I could talk to August, and that it could do those things for me. What happened instead was an array of things I couldn’t have predicted and that I wish weren’t now true, yet still I feel hopeful, because beautiful things still happened. It’s not August’s fault, it was just the wrong place and the wrong time. I still love you, August. Lots of poetry and lots of writing, reading, spending time with myself. I bought a jacket like Alyssa from The End of the Fucking World, because lots of people say I remind them of her (I’m taking it as a compliment, I think she’s great) and when I saw her wearing it, I wanted it. It reminded me of one of my Dad’s old jackets I used to wear when I was 16 and ‘indie’, wearing his hand-me-downs and old vintage tees, which are still in my wardrobe today. I remember lying next to someone and pointing at the TV saying, I need a jacket like that. I saw one recently and bought it and now I feel like Alyssa and myself all at once. Either way, I haven’t really taken it off since.
I got into bed and watched The Vampire Diaries on a Saturday night when I was actually at home for once and didn’t have anything to do, I couldn’t remember the last time I actually did something like that, cosied up in my room and admiring how comfortable it was. I don’t watch TV or Netflix, not for any particular reason, I just get most of my “entertainment” from Youtube because TV and films are never something I reach for off of my own accord, most of the things I have watched have been because I was with other people. I’ve seen TEOTFW2 on two separate occasions, with two separate people, and I decided I wanted to watch it again by myself. That’s what got me thinking about the jacket. Sometimes you just seen an item of clothing and think it’s really you, and that jacket just is for me. I don’t know why I keep talking about it, none of this is even about the jacket.
It’s about August, and all the hope it brings but didn’t necessarily follow through with because it crushed a lot of people this month, yet still I feel hopeful. Maybe that’s the thing about August, it’s poetic in a beautifully cruel way. It’s still soft. I wanted to write a post about it sooner, at the beginning of the month, but I didn’t know what to say at that point, and I didn’t want to waste it. So I’m writing it now. Another letter to August. Sealed with hope and mystery. Thanks for being you this year, I wonder what I’ll be saying in twelve months’ time when you come around again. How different will my life be, what will have changed? Maybe I’ll talk about it. If it doesn’t hurt too much. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much. I hope August holds me up for at least another twelve months – I hope it can continue to be good to me because of the hope I have for it, I don’t think it’ll let me down.
salt air, and the rust on your door
I never needed anything more
whispers of “are you sure?”
“never have I ever before”
“Waiting for what? I’d like to know.
It is August.
My life is going to change. I feel it.”