*sorry, let’s try this again <3
I woke with a heavy heart. A deep welling feeling that could break at any moment. There was a static grieving in the room. I want to bow down to it. To make room for it in my body. I wanted to cry, but more I wanted to get the words down on the page. I wanted to archive the feeling before it dissolves back into time. When I can hardly remember exactly the texture of it before it returns again. I think all I ever want to do is archive the feeling.
I have the urge to make an altar for the God of big things and the God of small, very small, things. I suppose this is it. This is my digital alter. An altar requires symbols, offering and a pooling of concentrated energy aimed towards some divinity. Is that not writing?
My grandma redeveloped shingles. When I facetimed her she was happy to see me. I was ashamed to think that there was a part of me that was avoiding calling her and my grandfather. There was something of their dying, of decay that felt frightening to me. It was this feeling that time was escaping me. That it was moving faster than my ability to appreciate it. It was something about how October was dissolving into November and that there were so many aspects of my life that I didn’t know how to explain to her. Somewhere in my search history is: “how to talk about queerness with Korean grandparents reddit.” Reddit because I needed to hear the real shit.
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