It’s a grayscale afternoon/A flat humidity wrapped in a low gray sky/Oppresive and threatening air. It’s nostalgia weather.
The type of day that makes you listen to warbly chanteuses and troubadors pour out their melancholic hearts through your headphones. You ache for times past and friends that live an ocean apart.
Time was soft then. We were smart and cooler then we knew. Spurred on by the blind mission to be different.
Polaroid dreams now. Climbing buildings. Dance parties. Easy laughter. Gang wars. Fearless with a smile. Waiting impatient for the day we’d be free from the John Hughes tropes.
But the layer of humidity falls off sooner then expected and cloying memories evaporate. It’s time to begin again and live for the clear and ever present now. Trying your damnedest to stay focused while ambition and clarity are clouded by late night anxieties. Answers aren’t locked in photo albums or treacly blog posts.
But we try to escape the grasps of reality through celluloid dreams, six word stories, second guesses and procrastination. Perhaps this cocktail of evasion will work its magic but for right now … it’s fueling a healthy habit of misdirection.
Sounds like adulthood to me.