let lemons be angry

I ran up the door and opened the stairs
I said my pyjamas and put on my prayers
I switched off the bed and tumbled into the light
All because you kissed me goodnight

Thinking about growing up. It's more than just growing out of phases, like those Baby-Gs and Baby-G lookalikes, and self-woven friendship bands. Those are just things, like shoulderpads and triple-coloured eyeshadow were just things. You can't say people grew more fashionable since the 80s; i won't say i have better taste now. But i'm more secure and sure of who i want to be--and that's reflected in the things i choose to do and wear.

A Thing is superficial, barely a fleck of the soul that owns it, but it is consequential, significant in this world that decides to love or hate after first impressions. A person is more than a mountain of things-- even so, i reduced Wings to a lesson in a book, and now i suspect Wings was nothing more than a feeling. Because i feel like Wings is back, although that's far from being true. I should like to be a feeling that people have. To never change, like an element in a corked flask. To be unflawed, pure, a sensation that hits with accurate strength. It's the only way i can be more than one out of many memories.