Manchild

It's not like things are in any way exactly the same situation,
In fact, they may still be pretty good
only, you can build an idea in your head.. and when there is nothing to fuel it you still keep building on whatever tangent makes sense, but there's no fuel, and you're building in the sky. It's insubstantial but you can't help but build it and there's nothing left to build from but your own fears and insecurities and you know they're not safe building blocks but there's nothing else and, somehow, you still must keep building and..
and it all comes back to longing for the past.. those single moments you can pick out and say "if I went back there, right now, I'd be So happy"
a field, tents, the sillhouette of the trees with the moon behind. A whole summer ahead. Gentle and unknowing (partly retrospective) realisation
Welsh Hills flowing past, on the way to a paradise of sorts, my hands outstretched. (this is invoked by the sudden musical interlude of the professor, which i ought to hate..)


and emily, esmi, whoever she is, stops talking to herself and finally goes to bed. x