Letter unwritten from years ago
01:31 at present, it's a Tuesday morning by technicality's sake.
I went home, tired.
I ate a big beautiful plate of nachos.
I fell asleep afterwards.
And then I woke up around 12, lights still blaring in my room, like a hospital almost.
And here I am again, listening to my fan, the other fan, and my own heartbeat.
For some reason, on repeat, a lyric keeps repeating in my head.
It's from the song "a departure," the opener to La Dispute's Wildlife. I wrote about this song a week or two ago in a different blog, but as I was cooking the other day and this came on, something has been stuck in my head; not too dissimliar to a scratched CD.
"Night fell on me writing this and I ran out of paper
So I crossed the name out at the top of the page
Not sure why I'm even writing this, but I guess it feels right
It sort of feels like I have to like an exorcism"
And then I remember why these lines strike a chord with me. Night fell on me writing this and I ran out of paper, I kept ripping pieces of paper up, was it anger? was it fear? was it me trying to reach something improbable?
It was four years ago when I started writing letters, sealing them, tossing them out. Spilling ink and mixing it with my blood, letting my skin take it over. The ceiling became a knife, and when lights were put up, it covered the whole room.
How warm did it feel. It didn't have too many options to edit the lights, but white would have been good, it's just that normal "white" with RGB looks like an ice blue due to the blue LEDs being much stronger. The blues have to be turned down to compensate.
Still, what was I at all?
It was some day maybe 6 years ago now, 5? Gathered in my room, I pulled out papers I wrote when I was in a mental hospital. It was several sheets. I didn't really know anything.
Fire coated my fingertips and everything around me was melting, no faces made sense, and there was a thick cut orange-ish desk, its veneer had weathered over a potential decade, but its radiance was never unwound.
Night fell on me writing those; I shared them with my friends. Someone spoke as if they knew me completely even though they did not. And, there was another paper too; written by myself through the guise of my old cat who had passed away, that's right.
Make it stop?
Song of the night: ANXIETY PANORAMA - La Dispute
I felt your panicking, your shattering, your catastrophic fall, My hands, never get it back."
When everything was made so rabid and brutal, violent and symphonic, night fell on me.
...I miss it lots...I'm not afraid to admit that at least...
I liked being up so late everyday, the times lined up perfectly with my only friend back then. It went "nightly with my panic." (la dispute) When I look back at it every night as I do now, it was really comfy.
"If I could hit the instant replay on only every good day Would any of it catch you by surprise?" (Stay Happy There, La Dispute)
I'm not one to ever want that, because nothing would catch me by surprise. Okay, of course there would be something, in fact there was something.
I did hit the instant replay, and while I must admit that I was caught off guard, I realized it was finally time; all of it, everything, deleted, this included the color, the light, the midnight strolls, the blood, the panic, the pitch black streets, the
goodnight, please take care of yourself.
- Victoria