it's 10 to 5 in the early evening and on this chilly wednesday, i feel numb.

the wind reaches me through the bedroom window; my room is dimly lit and my eyes are almost struggling to adjust to this computer screen. the cold envelopes me through and through and i embrace it back- rainy days are sacred days. these 6 months have been long and dry; my hands are shaking with fatigue and my eyelids are heavy from watching and waiting for something to happen. my heart, it shifts uncomfortably inside my chest- in fact, it has never found rest for such a long long time.

with all of my heart, i want to say that i have found courage to let go. but i haven't and here i am, at this very table that i've spent nights pouring my heart out on pages and pages.. and i realise that perhaps, feelings aren't meant to be let go of. maybe everything we've ever felt that went away simply faded away. today, i'm coming to an actualisation that processes have lessons to teach, however painful and regardless of the longing that i feel in the pit of my gut. seasons of waiting are still seasons alright- they aren't all exactly spring-waiting winters. i can make out daisies in snow flakes; i can recall what sun feels like on my skin next to the fireplace; i can knit sweaters as though i were knotting flowers in my hair.

i choose to be happy when i am waiting, when i am weary, when i am heartbroken and when desire pounds from inside of me. oh what joy will i experience when the flowers start to bloom?

they will be found on the palms of my hands. they will be found carefully plaited into my hair. they will be found bursting from where my heart is. because i have planted them where they can exist timelessly: i have grown joy in my heart even when there is no reason to have joy.