He used to soften when I was sad.
His voice would change, covered in cream and caramel. Braised with butter and jam. My name sounded like an olive branch, slipping off of his tongue to take the shape of an outstretched hand. Letters like fingers grazing faces, drying tears.
That sounds really pretty, poetic in its sweetness. And it was, really.
It explains why I grew to love clinging, grabbing, clasping. You know - other synonyms for holding. But like honey into tea or something else that would fit into that first paragraph, it slipped under the surface and dissolved. Still there but intangible to find. Impossible to carry.
Now his voice doesn’t soften, but silences.
Picture one of those little raccoons from the videos, the ones who try to wash their cotton candy. Now picture its little empty hands.
They’re so cute and confused, they don’t understand what happened - they just keep looking. but it’s okay, they won’t feel that way forever.
That’s what I tell myself – I won’t feel this way forever, and I wont. But sometimes it feels like I will. Sometimes I don’t understand what’s happening, and I’m confused. It gets exhausting screaming my feelings into empty voids, talking to walls – looking through water. Searching for assurance.  At this point, I know I have nothing else left to give, I have drained myself dry waiting on the certainty of others.
but it’s okay - I won’t feel this way forever.
So, I keep searching.
Tomorrow i’ll board another plane to go home. Nothing really feels like home, and I guess that’s been a problem for a while. Everything has been temporary. Even here, ‘home’ is a holding pattern, a layover. There’s some sort of soul that’s missing in all of these places I run through.
You know how you can tell when food has been made with love?
You can also tell when love lives somewhere.
The thing is, it’s never the place, but the people. And that’s the kicker.
It felt fine before, when I was alone. Then I wasn’t. And now it tastes like there is something missing in all of the food.
Like honey into tea, stuck searching for something sweet to temper the bitter.
I keep reaching out to find it, but i’m afraid it will disappear like raccoons washing cotton candy.
Now picture my little empty hands.
Enhance your reading experience with today’s Blog pairing menu:
Feature Film: Red Rooms
Catchy tune: Let You Break My Heart Again - Laufey