The past and future are irrelevant, the present is everything.
Kickin it in Boston
This is how it works:
One day, you’re sitting on your bedroom floor among all the debris of your life with a knife at your wrist and packets of pills and you’re drunk and crying and you don’t see any way out. Just the knife. And you wince when you see blood and realise you can’t even kill yourself properly because it hurts.
Then, the next day, you’re sitting in the park and you’re watching blossom fall. You’re watching the blossom and these kids, who are molesting a squirrel that keeps running away from them. You feel warm for the first time in months. You can’t even picture the knife. You even remember to say, “good afternoon, Mr Magpie, how’s your wife and family?”, because you know it’s meant to ward off sorrow and God knows you’ve had enough sorrow of late. You’re watching those kids, the blossom, the magpie and you’re really glad you didn’t press down, that you’re still here.
This is how it works: you’re sad until you’re not. You’re not alright until you are. And winter will stick around however long it takes for spring to arrive and make the city live again.
#38 - April 15th (via blood-and-magic)