Pounding the streets.
Under 6 weeks until the longest day now. Half past nine in the evening isn't dark any more, though the street lights are on. Makes the world a funny colour scheme - purple flowers glow almost as if ultraviolet, the trees are all brown (rather than the greens of the day time) and the sky is an off-blue. It still feels lonely though.
Maybe lonely isn't a bad thing though? How it is meant to be.
Maybe a funny colour scheme isn't normal? Just how I perceive it.
We all know I "think differently" according to them, so maybe I see differently too? Maybe others don't see the same things? Maybe?
Under 6 weeks until the longest day. Quarter to ten in the evening is quite dark, though the street lights are on. Makes the world black and sepia. It still feels lonely though.
Maybe lonely isn't a bad thing? Still got the neighbourhood cats popping up unexpectedly. Or the friendly birds pecking at the moss on the side of the road. They happily go on their lives, sensing the opportunity of me walking past for a conversation or chance to circle around the walking person's legs for the sake of it.
Nature feels more real this year. More here and with me. Only went out one time in spring last year, ended up in hospital, didn't really feel like spring. Year before I spent head down, walking around in a daze. This year, I'm noticing it. Pounding the streets, up hills, down hills. Under the street lights, to the bits of the road not close to street lights and thus dark, under the street lights again. Music in the head. Music in the fingers, playing imaginary piano in the air. Music in the feet, pounding the streets. Pounding the streets, normal. Lonely, lonely existence. Just how it is meant to be?
Pounding the streets. Clomp clomp clomp clomp. Trying not to fall over. Trying to take it in, absorb the world. Though the world isn't going anywhere and I am not planning of going anywhere, I have a residual thinking process left over that tells me this is my last spring. Or at least, that this might be my last spring. I need to always remember that it might be just residual mentalness, or it might be just my innate thinking systems, but I don't have to make this my last spring. Like that day wasn't my last day, and all these days after it haven't been my last either. That month wasn't my last, that spring wasn't my last, that year wasn't my last. But it could have been. I could, tomorrow, do something. I won't, but I could.
I have the problem I am aware of what I could do. It is just how it is, I'm aware of how physically ill/non-alive I could be. Can I go back to being innocent again? Not sure when innocent me became me though. A long time ago, before I realised I was different. Or at least, I was treated differently.
Nature is here, and it is here to stay. And I have reasons to be here, and to be here to stay for some while yet. For one thing, I'm going to get my contract made permanent. Being alive is a bit of requirement for that, surprisingly enough. Another is all the music I still want to experience. Another is all the maths I want to understand. The want not to be a bloody statistic or a shitty stereotype, but instead me. ME. Me. Not someone with X, Y or Z. Not someone who can't do the things she has dreamed of since the age of 5 (side though: was I innocent then? Not sure). I'm just doing them in a different way. But hey, I'm not conventional. I hate fitting into boxes and labels and the normal way of doing things, and so I am doing this the unconventional way. By being me. And shock horror, you poor souls and the cats and the birds and the trees and the streets have got to put up with me a bit longer. Right now, for a lot lot longer. I'm going to grow older, I'm going to wear purple (so just like now). I'm also going to try my hardest to get to my dreams, they might not be possible, but I can't not try. Not now, not here, not with the streets beneath my feet and the cat meowing un-tunefully to the piano sonata currently playing in my head. (well, the world isn't always on your side, is it?!)