Black Summer
Such a heavy duty to start this. Days had long passed when I felt brave and naive enough to document anything from my life. I’m jealous of this old self of mine, jealous of the person I used to be. So much shit has happened since and more days are passing quietly, unaware, unnoticed, unmentioned. To formulate anything that makes sense these days is hard. After all the dreams, all the innocence gone, it’s hard to say what is left. It’s hard to say what keeps me moving. But I still am. Maybe I feel responsible to live a life for the two us, the life you won’t get to experience. Maybe it is closer to the truth that any narrative that helps me to take the next step, that helps me to get out of bed in the morning is tightly embraced. There may be more of these fabricated explanations than just one, and these stories in my mind are changing. Trying to validate the unlikely, the impossible. Up until today, I have moments when I have to remind myself that such a terrible event did happen