I’m sorry I’m sorry but every August as soon as the season starts to show the slightest whiff of wanting to change my brain gets totally colonized by nostalgia and all I want are moody tunes about missing people.
Somewhere I still have an old calling card that I could use to make long distance calls and have them billed to my mom and dad. I remember using it at a payphone in Toronto to call a boy I thought I loved. He was an idiot, ultimately, but there’s something so tantalizing and exciting about remembering the feeling of a crush and the sense of hope and possibility it represented: that moment before heartbreak and disillusionment when anything you ever wanted seemed possible.
I think I’m happy now but sometimes I miss that limitless feeling. I think I’m happy now because I don’t have to fear the dark shadow of that feeling, the dark shadow that came out when things didn’t go the way I wanted. Sometimes I get so mad that I wasted time chasing the idiots who embodied that feeling when there are actual people in my life who actually love me. The people I would actually love to call from far away to hear their voices.
I don’t know where this autumn wistfulness comes from but sometimes I feel like I could just fall into it forever.