Hi.
I can’t believe it’s April 27th. There are few things that make me feel older than the surprise I feel at the end of every month when I realize how quickly time has slipped on and away. I shall be so sad to bid April adieu, for it’s such a comforting month to me. I love it for its linearity, how life seems to continue on a steady climb toward warmth and sweetness. It’s alive and awake, but like a first morning stretch - quiet and kind and sort of selfish in a good way. I have been relishing in stepping outside my house to be greeted by the smell of spring. I love the way it fills up my whole chest and reminds me of being in elementary school.
There’s a honeysuckle bush on a route I often walk, and I’m obsessed with it. It’s braided together with an unruly rose bush, and there’s something so tender about the fierce protection I imagine the thorns offering up. I’ve had this kind of tragic poetry of honeysuckles on my mind. I don’t know why, but I’ve been unable to shake how it takes pulling them apart for their sweetness to be enjoyed. If I were a poet, I’d write something about that. But I’m not! I’m just half-way paying attention to my surroundings as I walk through my neighborhood with my nose forever buried in a book.
I just love the juxtaposition between the rose and the honeysuckle. It’s endearing to seem them all tied up together, haughty and humble, fierce and forgiving. To me, there is something distinctly sisterly about it. And, of course, if it seems sisterly, it’s obviously going to make me think of Elizabeth and Jane (and in this instance, particularly of them under the covers gossiping of Bingley and Darcy). I’ll also admit to being a bit conceited, as I did spend a few fruitless minutes trying to decide if I’m more honeysuckle or rose. I did eventually remember I am a person, not a flower, so I’m back to just admiring the tender poetry of it all.
Anyway, it’s April 27th, and a year ago today I did something brave! I got a haircut. I want to declare today “international do something brave day”, but I’m a little worried about committing to it. I’ve realized I have such a limited scope of bravery. And by limited, I mean I think the only ways to be brave are to: get a haircut and/or confess your love to someone. I’ve never really considered myself a brave person, but I’m trying on a new definition, in which putting an extra spoonful of chia seeds on my oatmeal can be considered courageous. I know that’s not objectively scary, but isn’t that the whole point of fear?
I shall leave you all with what I’m sure you really came for: my thoughts on the tortured poets department. Sorry to disappoint but I’ve maybe listened to the full album once? I really can’t even confirm if I’ve heard every song. It’s a mental and emotional workout I just don’t have time for at the moment (sorry!!!!) I do have the following texts I’ve sent my sister, though:
4/19, 7:18 am: “I like it so far”
4/19, 7:40 pm: “Ok I can not digest any of this album”
4/26, 12:23 pm: “Have the people on the Internet been making connections between Cornelia Street and so long London”
Ok, I’m out of words. If you need me I’ll be thinking of ways to be brave (jury is very much still out on if I’ll follow through) and soaking in every green second of April I can get!
BYE <3
PS - this is the most unrelated, but can y’all believe Timothee Chalamet and Kylie Jenner are still together? WHEN WILL IT END! I’m so glad he’s back to short hair, though.
