“People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die” Haruki Murakami

My laptop suddenly died with a lot of unsaved stuff in it and I’m currently writing on a borrowed computer which is probably power supplied by dinosaurs, but as it’s said: it’s better than nothing.

It has probably been a good thing for you all, since I had a terrible time, suffering chronic pain, frustration and an insane amount of emotional abuse. It hasn’t got better to be honest, but my wingless angels from this side and from the opposite side of the pond, supported me and both told and demonstrated me that I’m worth loving. Whenever I feel like complaining about how it’s always raining on me, I should remember that I have big umbrellas, some of them are even limited edition. And JD, well, JD always plays a big part in my happiness; I even finally found the answer to the question “Describe him in two words”. I’ve never been able to choose among his infinite qualities, but now I know how to portray him: “nothing compares”.

I read a lot of books as usual, I indulged in Sylvia Plath’s works and that’s something I should avoid, above all when I’m depressed, if I don’t want to end with the head in the oven like her without having written anything notable.

I thought a lot about death lately, suicide, of course, but also about what happens to our beloved stuff once we die. I was in a thrift shop where a friend of mine volunteers and a woman came with a garbage bag full of collectibles, knick-knack and books, saying that her mom died, so she had to make space in the house. I looked at the object thinking about which sentimental value they may had for their owner. We only see a little value decorative item, but maybe it was a present of an ancient lover, the souvenir of a long desired journey, the memory of a funny trip. And it’s sad to think that one day my kids will do the same; they will put my beloved books, my cherished vinyls, my precious signed CD and all my stuff in a black trash bag and bring it to a thrift shop or throw it into the bin.

So, in case someone will put their hands on the drumsticks JD gave to me, please, treasure them, not only because they’re the only pair used for Heartless video, but because they’re my magic wands: I hold them whenever I feel shit and my mood changes because they say “you’re loved!”. They mean more than what they are, love them as I did. Thanks.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Good Riddance- Green Day

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s