On December 2012

That home is miles away, there are no cheap flights available and you have things and people to get back to. The phone call doesn’t exist. She sleeps by ten anyways.

It’s december yet again, yet another year passes but the months and dates remain the same. You might not be in 2012, but it will be december yet again. There’s something that my father taught me December of 2012.

You become the person you always wanted to be, but that idea keeps changing, it’s not 2012 anymore. The year is ending. time for a change.

Was reading this piece about archery yesterday where it talked about how when you aim your bow, you cannot remain fully still. a certain amt of tension you must maintain in your back until, until you feel this strech inside of your chest called expansion. Only after you have expanded can you release. there must be nothing, you must be empty, empty of everything but the desire, the desire to free the arrow, and then... then you must empty yourself even further

it will go where you send it, not where you ask it to. sometimes holding on mean letting go.

I remember winter of dec 2012, going w/my uncle to help chop some dry wood. The thing about chopping wood is that one always ended up with a splinter or a poison ivy or a bug but no matter how carefully that wood was chopped and chosen. You try to employ various avoidance strategies including temporarily losing your shoes or coats, claiming a sudden cold or fever, bribery, blackmail or the excuse that LOTRs is playing on star movie select rn.

We had to move a lot bc of my dad’s job. There were so many homes we lived in. last summer I remember driving past the home I lived in 2012 and stopping by. The canopied veranda where we used to build that fire and sit for hours around is still there. the wood used now is surely not the same and it won’t warm me in the same way anyway.

I had a thing as kid that I wanted to be rich enough one day buy back all the homes we lived in. Not really to live in them, just have them, own them, maybe as collectibles of my identities scattered across the globe. As I peeked over the gate I could tell its surely adored by the family who lives there now. I no longer want to live there. ig I just want to feel the way I did when I did. Carefree, buzzing, couldn’t touch the ground for all the dreams I was carrying, no worries about the bills, the tution, the people, some people, the complexity of emotions which I wasn’t complex enough to feel, and the wants... oh I want not a lot but that’s not an excuse for wanting

there’s some wants never die, despite your attempts to bury or outrun them. there was this poem about love:
What does true love look like to you? - Moonlight
What does it smell like? - Fire
What does it taste like? - the first monsoon rain
What does it feel like? - loosing an arrow
What does it sound like? ...What does it sound like? and this is where i get stuck. I can’t find the word or maybe it cannot find me. I don’t know what to listen for and maybe this is why I can’t...

that house, does it remember me? Do the woods still carry the mark I left in them? Does anyone but me remember our last day there, whispering goodbye? Did anything say it back? Do the walls still remember the stories my grandma told me at night? yesterday I realised, I no longer do, no matter how hard I try to listen for them. yet another year passes. yet another december, yet another story lost to time.

No nostalgia isn’t the feeling. I can’t find the word in english and have been on search of words that come close to this feeling that I can’t name.

There’s this word in Portuguese: “Saudade” - A profound, melancholic longing for something or someone that is absent. It often refers to a memory or place that you can’t return to, at least not in the same way. There’s also this word in Welsh: “Hiraeth” which means a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was. It carries a weight of nostalgia and grief for a lost time or place. In German there’s a word called “Sehnsucht” which means a deep, wistful yearning for something lost or unattainable. Often tied to places of memory and a sense of incompletion. I don’t know why exactly I am searching for a word, why I wanna put a label on this feeling, I should try listen to it instead.

I was searching for a book lately when I chanced upon the kids story book section in the library (yes, apparently there is one). and I noticed The Little Prince in there, been so long since I read it, prolly as a child, and now... a adult who was once a child. This page in it, this particular page that stuck with me when the narrator that had crashed his plane into the Sahara desert tells the little prince he found the desert beautiful for some reason (stupid, stupid reasons).

There’s something I’ve always loved about the desert, not really a conventionally attractive holiday destination is it? I sit down on a sand dune.... I see nothing... I hear nothing. And yet, yet something shines, something sings in that silence... is this what it sounds like? The little prince said that the desert was beautiful because it hides a well somewhere, just like how the stars are beautiful bc of a flower you can’t see.

Been thinking about idols. So many of my friends have these people they really look up to. Who do I look up to? so many in 2012 but. none survived till 2025, none but my dad. As I’ve grown older I think I understand him more now. Wasn’t always like that... there’s this quote in Intermezzo where Rooney talks about how sometimes you need people to be perfect at times. and they can’t be. and you hate them for not being. even though it isn’t their fault and it’s not yours either. You just needed something they didn’t have in them to give you at the time. I think I understand now.

Hated the idea as kid that I would but here we are. im ending up more like my dad day by day. We run only to end up becoming like... you think you're escaping and run into yourself. “Longest way round is the shortest way home.” as that quote says in Ulysses. there’s something my dad said in december about how nothing you become will disappoint me; I have no preconception that I’d like to see you be or do. I have no desire to foresee you, only to discover you. You can’t disappoint me. ...and I hug him goodbye on the station

I hug and step back into myself, and I beg their forgiveness for forgetting the love I am made of. I wear my mother’s watch and carry her emotions. I bear my father’s nickname for me. In dreams I smell my grandfather’s smoke, his faded home. I look in my grandmother’s mirror and I see a attitude she gave me. And one day he will hum from one activity to the next, never tired, never tired...

oh the train is steaming and I cannot undo myself. I hug them goodbye and the train is steaming and soon I will be 500 miles away from home, away from home. the place I am getting to, I do not know where, why are there so many obstacles. I arrive. The dream door opens, something guides me outside. Tells me to come again. I have no choice. That’s my station... what’s the plan now? never had a plan.

I hear so many things I couldn’t begin to separate them from each other, not all of them sounds... life is a song I’m helplessly singing, tapping out the melody with my feet. sometimes a bit loud but honestly its just that the new fred again album is just so fucking good.

p.s. it’s already december and it feels like the world is about to end and I have been writing here for so long and for such a short time yet i love it here. 5 yrs. yk I never expected anyone, not even you, to ever read my words: my life is invariable, like the low hum of the air conditioning, and i don’t think i deserve much things and my saying that doesn’t make me special in any sense of the word but rather extremely negligible. but i love talking to other people, hearing their thoughts and having deep conversations and feeling like i’m in on something that the rest of the world is clueless about. so i hope you feel that way too. i don’t tell these things to just anyone, you know. You’re seeing me and i see you too.

Limerently yours,
Kay.

p.p.s- theres this bitch keeps liking all the good niche reels before me on ig and I hate her I hate her