After the storm.

How are you holding up? Are you happy? Questions I've been getting quite frequently and often find myself stumbling to find an answer. Really got me thinking......

It's intriguing how we learn to forget, or rather force forgetting; how we make the people we once loved into strangers. But do we really stop knowing each other in the way we used to? Do we ever forget their birthdays or deliberately choose to not wish them? Do anniversaries ever go back to being just another day out of the 365 in a year? Are they strangers 'cause they become void after the break up or do we decidedly make them so?

Our lives doesn't abruptly stop revolving around someone even if memories are all that remain. The little bits and pieces linger in the places you've been together and the words said. I believe love isn't expendable, that we don't simply write people off 'cause they don't matter anymore, but more so as a necessity.

We all start off as strangers before we find souls that become irrationally compelling. And we overlook that some end up as strangers again. When that happens, we don't need as much strength as understanding. Understanding that this shall pass, understanding that things will eventually fall into place, and that we'll meet the one who makes us happy again.

So am I happy? Not exactly.

I still keep myself busy to divert my attention and tore myself out to forget. But hey, admitting to having a problem is the first step to solving it. One day, it'll all make perfect sense, that my future was never tied to those that walked away or those who didn't make me a better person. Someday, another universe will collide with mine, making me appreciate the calm after the storm and see everything clearer.

Photos by Gian

"There are storms that change the skyline, that leave patches of blue where branches had once spread their brittle fingers. And in the aftermath, an eerie calm settles over the forest, as shell-shocked birds sing warily in the sunlight. The nervous flutter of their injured wings, barely audible above the hammering of a hummingbird's heart.

You once told me the wind is silent. How his sound can only be heard through collision. Last night, he cried with a violent yearning while he tore through the tress. As he brought down their twisted branches, I thought of the first time you said my name. 

You were the storm that changed the skyline. After the damage and deluge, I could see things so much clearer. There hasn't been another like you since. 

In 1953, we began naming hurricanes so we could remember them beyond the wreckage. So we could make sense of the destruction. It is the way I remember you." -Lang Leav

With love,

Clarabelle Faith