#meredith's notes

It's about that time when I feel a certain longing for the ocean. A breeze swirls around me and I wonder where i'll be next year. I had many many months to get used to the concept of turning 20. I don't know if i'm quite there yet. Study me or ignore me, je m'en fiche. Et si Shakespeare a réussi à créer un univers si dévastateur et romantique, ne pourrais-je pas faire de même? I'm reminded of sonnet 18 : "shall i compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may..."

Photographic evidence suggests i am in paradise. If that is the case why do i feel closer to the depths of lava centered Gaïa?

And why am i still weighed down by the opinions of the voices in my head?

I am much like a beignet à la framboise, only instead of jam i am filled with existential dread. My father looks through my eyes and into the person he wants to see. Am i a vessel for his bloodied past? A manifestation of the person he could have been, had he not made ill fated choices? I know deep down everyone feels like they are floating aimlessly through time and space, but if that is so, why am i the only one speaking into the void?

Maybe SZA is right. Life is better on saturn.

But till the day i understand why my father lost his will to care for me in a way that benefits us both, i'll stay here. In the reality of my own making, where my mind takes care of my heart, like a parent with a child.

Hark! Wonderland beckons.

xoxo,

Meredith.

note : the photo on the right hand corner is mine, all the others are from pinterest.

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