✨ a lustrous core of selenite or moonstone

beneath the protective nest you made of thoughts

a new place doesn’t create a new you so much as sublimate, isolate it.

this was you, and this was him, there, that.

distilled, now, from your surroundings.

this is the self that was actually there.

in a new place, the only constant is who you are.

your own city laden with memories. every block a kiss, a sprained ankle, a tearful walk home. surrounded by the past, entwined in other peoples’ stories. so many selves projected onto you; each one truthful but distorted, skewed.

anonymity’s always made you feel less observed, more yourself. a fresh narrative, the main character. not layered with the light and colour of other stories.

yes, there’s a precarity you feel in a new country, alone. but you’re starting to see how precarity’s not uncertainty, not a city, not the new.

it’s life perceived fully, the dullness and familiarity stripped away.

how it’s not harder, really, to listen to your heart. that inaction’s not the easiest, but the most available thing.

you see the way there are no guarantees, anywhere. that life won’t happen unless you work and strive and fight.

maybe it’s more that you feel the enormity of it, what you want to do. crossing oceans; a tsunami to dive deep below, and ride out.

what you wanted, you come to see, was simpler, more obvious.

a lustrous core of selenite or moonstone, beneath the protective nest you made of thoughts.

thinking has always been what you’re good at. the hard part is feeling, intuition, want.

thanks for being here. this is fictionalizings, fragments of creative writing created for no specific purpose.

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