I am writing this at work, which is not something that I ever really do, except that it is quiet this morning and everyone is in a rush. I like morning shifts, even though I have to wake up before the sun is out. I dress warmly in my boots and my raincoat, I buy a coffee from next door. Sometimes there are people waiting outside, but more often, they walk past in their business clothes to wherever they need to be. Occasionally, a regular customer will wave when they look in. Everyone is kinder in the morning. Maybe because we are all tired, or maybe because saying “have a nice day” feels truer.
I’m in the habit of romanticising life, but there’s something sweet about listening to movie soundtracks, shelving books, and secretly reading Angela Carter behind the counter. I’m reading The Magic Toyshop, and it is the kind of book that feels eternal. There’s this line about Melanie getting her period for the first time, and I can’t stop thinking about it – “she had felt she was pregnant with herself.” Which is just wildly vivid and beautiful.
I haven’t written poetry for a long time, it almost feels strange. I’m trying to write a poem for my friend’s dance performance. I know I have to think about it differently because it will be spoken, not read. I think all poems should be written to be read, but it’s different because you miss the shape of letters, or line-breaks, or the kind of loneliness you feel when you read it silently in your head. Her dance is about sonder. I feel it often, I think about it, I even write it sometimes. How do I say it? What images do I see? I’m on winter break from uni, so I’m hoping to write more freely. Next semester, I’m taking an advanced class on creative writing. Which will mean more poetry, and more musing. I think I am past feeling and catharsis, now I want to be good. I know it can be both, but it doesn’t have to be. I want my writing to feel strange to myself sometimes.
I will get back to work now, and busy myself with mindless tidying. I’m going to meet a friend today for lunch when I’m done. I feel like I am in a very particular time of my life that I will miss a lot when I’m older. I feel that way about every age, but my twenties! Studying and working part-time and reading and going out to play. I’ve been reading through the online journal I kept briefly during my final weeks of high school. It is really dusty and untouched, like a little time capsule of being seventeen. Stupid and silly and lovely. I always feel extremely old, but I was only a teenager two years ago. It’s easy to forget that it’s going slowly, there’s still time.