Before writing this, I’d been sitting outside, contemplating if I wanted to pen it down or not.
Now after making up my mind to, these words are hesitant to show up, as usual. Anyway.
Have you ever felt like wailing out loud and wanting to burrow into a thick blanket at the same time? With something like a large cold block of dread pressing on your chest?
I’ve always hated goodbyes. Endings in general.
Good books, good movies, a good day out.
Holidays, a school year, a birthday.
It must be why deep down I don’t look forward to landmark events; graduation, weddings, the end of the year, burials.
There’s always this fear. This dread, that everyone seems to dismiss. This dread that always takes my breath away. That makes me want to weep.
This is it. What I feel every year’s ending. I dislike it desperately. It takes my breath away, tightens my chest and looms like a dark tunnel.
I’m barely dyspneic really.
It’s funny how I never see it coming. How it manages to creep up on me every single time.
What’s funnier is how it feels familiar when it comes. Like an old comfort dress that wraps you in a hug. I don’t shake it off, I wear it, albeit with a large helping of sadness.
I’m theorizing. That I must be mourning something I’m not aware of.
Because my yearly companion feels similar to a deep loss as well.
It sounds trivial. My writing never does these emotions justice.