There are things I miss
that I shouldn't,
and those I don't
that I should.
Sometimes we want
what we couldn't—
sometimes we love
who we could.
―Lang Leav, Acceptance
//
Sunday mornings are special to me. Sunday mornings, when I was younger, was spent going to the ballet studio where I tried to be as flexible as I could, tried to stretch my fingers out as gracefully as I could, and tried to not lunge out at my teacher when she told my mom I would never be skinny because my body shape is a "ball".
When I reached tween years, Sunday mornings became my private solace when I sat in the quiet of the living room, watching emotional music videos of Chinese songs and letting surges of pain and love ripple through my body; why is it that certain meanings can only be expressed in a certain language? I used to be really upset when I was disturbed during such mornings.
When I got to junior college, Sunday mornings were all about rushing schoolwork. Honestly.
During the early college years, Sunday mornings ranged from a spectrum of feeling exceedingly happy from the previous night of partying, or tremendously confused and outraged from the previous night's happenings. Party nights could be filled with so much drama. But more often that not, they were good, and in my slightly hungover state, I would search the net for those songs that I had shazammed. Or if I were really hungover, I'd put on some soothing music, lean back, and just close my eyes.
In Aarhus, I would sit myself in the heavy clumsy wooden chair in the kitchen, put on his playlist, and watch the trees sway outside the kitchen window. They were lush with bright green leaves when I had first arrived late August, but toward November, they had become bare branches.
Sunday mornings are special to me because I use them to enrich my soul. Specifically, I do an activity that makes my soul feel replenished and whole. I read or listen to music. I watch a film. It's an attempt for the spectrum of my emotions to widen. I want to burst out into beams that can't be wiped off my face. I want to sob and feel incredibly sad.
This Sunday morning, I am working on work.
Sunday mornings used to be special to me.
//
"I feel like we're separated lovers in some movie with some supernatural force distancing them. Like the lake house or something"
I miss you so much.
