"what are we going to do next year?"

there is something about rain that seams to get to me in a way nothing else can. sometimes it is happy and alive. this rain was not. it was like the sky was crying. like happiness had run its corse. like melancholy clouds and wet sidewalks were the order for the day. i love the rain. it's clean and fresh. the clouds tuck in a city as if it were a small child. 

but some days it rains not for love. 

somedays, the sky cries with you, and that is why it rains. 

it rained that day. and rain was a companion. we sat together in our dim light, (from sky and soul) wet faces and silent pain. it was a hard day.

i feel emptied. balled out like a cantaloupe or the inside of a pumpkin. hollowed so that i resound when you place an ear to the cavity of my chest. it's a tangible loss. it's something that has defined, does define me. will continue to define me. 

but it's the end now. 

and i don't know how to deal with that. i don't know how to deal with the fact that i did so poorly. that i pretty much shit the bed in the last tournament that i will ever have. all these things beat on me. hard heavy blows. fast to bruise on my raining mind.

i am lost. for words, for energy for ability to explain. 

this is just one wound, absence in my life that will take some time to heal.

morning came after the rain. i woke to a panic attack. i couldn't breathe. i couldn't find calm. i woke up alone. 

very much so

and as i drove through the city of halifax on  a bus that would take me on to a new stage of my life, i thought of something. i thought that each individual in built over years. like a city.  you will have beautiful victorian houses painted all sorts of beautiful colors. and ugly square bungalows when the war breaks out. 

we are all cities. built from the stones of our world

Bon Iver is coming out with a new album. Justin Vernon's words meld and mend the fabric of my soul. I can not wait.