She is dead now but she is alive in the slightest of moments.
I see them floating in the air they spin with the wind. They are the whitest feathers on the most crisp of clear days. That is my Gran now. Each floating feather reminds me of the beauty of her person and the smell of the baked bread as we went to her house on the motorway.
I'm warm. Too warm. Sitting under the covers pillows piled high against the back of my neck. I'm reminiscing on times where you watched over me. I know you still do. I feel it. Its comforting to know that I have you still.
And that smell you have it makes my head turn in your direction nose smelling your scent. Like boy and soap.
I have a lot to be thankful for. I know this. I have had nothing and everything. My health and my non health. The duvet cover is warm and heated even hotter by the laptop that sits on my knees as I type. My legs and body close to breaking into a sweat. I rest with my body spread out the length of the bed the pillows piled high against my neck adding the the heat. I sit reminiscing of the times I have spent in hospital. I really was ill and I only think it is sinking in just now. I cant believe I haven't ever thought about it until this point.
Boo.. Its 6am and I have been awake and entertaining myself with bbc iplayer and the internet for the last few hours. I can not sleep. I have such a messed up sleeping pattern its unreal. I should perhaps stop sleeping in until lunch time and working at night. Humm... A grand plan maybe stirring up a brew.
So it is my 24th birthday tomorrow I guess. How random. I find myself with a degree, a 25% stake in a company, living at home, still in the cinema, with a boyfriend, a fantastic group of friends and my health. I have a meeting with channel 4 on Friday, a hospital appointment at dermatology directly before that meeting and an amazing night out planned on the Sunday. Its exciting.
I want to write. I haven't in ages.
I see my face slip from the top 10. Your order making a miss of the time we spent. Your innocent face reflects images of our past. The memories I treasure close still edging away to the surface. Resulting in tears with no sound I cant stop the thought that it could still be. The thought that it wasn’t ever that bad. I am kept back by these thoughts and wish I wasn’t sometimes. I am in that new place still though the dust is fast settling. I am uncomfortable with the use of single gay male though I fear this will never change. Moments of passion tide the sea as the desolate winds roar. I am at sea. Flickering a torch within the mist to find land. I need to settle for a rest, to move on with the world and not be at sea. I lack certainty within this boat. The desolate roar of the wind makes my boat unstable.