the emperor of time

“It’s funny, because people think it’s Matty that stops me fitting in. But Matty’s not so bad. Hard work, but… it’s the way Matty makes me feel that stops me fitting in. You get the weight of everything wrong. You have to guess all the time whether things are heavy or light, especially the things inside you, and you get it wrong, and it puts people off. I’m tired of it.”

-p. 196

“One is not born a woman, one becomes one”

-Simone de Beauvoir

Today, of all days, and I’m not sure why, but I felt it. I felt the weight of inadequacy and questioning of self. When somebody truly makes you question your position it is a testament to that person, and today was a testament to you. It was a memoir of what could have been and what never was. It was the lightness of the touch and the weight of our past combined into a molotov cocktail of my desire and your smile. And then my glance, casual but firm, unto that weight on your finger that tells me it signifies so much. It is the phone call and my silence and your voice and, again, ice cream. Me having to refrain from asking whether there’s a reason to be. It was the bench and the sunlight and me finding so much inspiration in you. It was your answer that sent chills down my spine and made me scared that I could never be what someone like you is looking for. That telling me so casually as I stared unto the sidewalk was deliberate (even though it could never be new), so that you could weigh my reaction for yourself, and so that I could wonder whether you’re wondering the same thing. Whether it’s a test of time or of my weakness, I’m not sure. Today felt like it was both. Asking what five times five feels like is hard. I can’t feel that weight, it’s lost. Five, because I thought it would be enough and I was wrong.

	Swan Lake – A Hand At Dusk
	Found at skreemr.com

(sorry for the ugly embedding. the file was too big to upload, but the song is too perfect to not share.)