Dual (sic)

September appeases you with sunshine, like an apology, like it knows you know what it's there for, but it would like to soften the blow. We walk through the park and I think it's a lovely day for the beach but in my apartment we have already stowed away the picnic blankets. How life is cruel, when you are always one step behind it. My body aches, yells at me about children unmade, another month wasted and here's how we are made to suffer for the choices we did not make.

But I sit at this desk, again, cool air streaming in from an open window, piles of magic strewn around me on bits of paper, the space around me expanding with possibility and story. It's not that I didn't make choices, it's that I made strange, curious, fantastical choices that do not fit easily into properly labeled boxes and sometimes that's bound to chafe at your sides, but believe me: when you let yourself settle in and get comfortable in the box you chose, how much it looks like an entire Universe.

How much it looks like you gave yourself the stars.