Lazy from C-Z

I never forgot the 21st. It was arguably the best hour and a half of my life, and a year later, oblivion... Spent my first week of holiday gallivanting around Skye, thinking exactly about the same day last year when I lost Ainhoa, where I faltered, and where I stumbled apart. It was disastrous, but it was glorious in the moment, and it is just unimaginable to fathom where I would end up now when my hope back then was at an all-time high. Prior to leaving for Gran Canaria, I kind of anticipated that outcome, but not to that same extent, a slow death, clinging on to unheeded desperation. She was as beautiful as beautiful can ever be, and I was just me, belittled by mine own defeat. It was hard because red flags were sprinkled all throughout that condensed time, and yet I ignored it, just completely enamoured by the nymph that drew me in wholeheartedly since the start. A love that grew from a lot of doubt. A few vignettes of warnings from someone who supposedly cared. Where have my life b

Images of death lingered on in my head, like fireflies in the night, waiting to be shattered. Words never coincided in precisely the same moments where life begins and worlds collide. Some of the things appeared so menial, so unperturbed, that the only way to fully understand the enormity of the attempt was to actually engage it head-on. Fear was on my side. It was like a goulash of emotions sifting through my system. Past and pasts living in the present, terrorising me whole, crawling, feeling isolated in the moment. This sense of desperation is all I have. These days I see the light writing its own reasons to feel the sense of being alive. I do not know what is in life, but I can sing and dance to the tune of bewilderment alone. Where did my love ever go?