red hearts and the dust of june

I miss June, and July - and maybe some time before that. I miss them like that one Shins song, the one that I can’t remember, but just know if it came on - it would be at the right moment, like it was meant for me to hear at that time, and everything then would fall into place. And maybe then I would understand, and I would begin to make sense of it all - and I could go forward with what I know is right. I don’t miss the heat. I hate heat, I hate heat when it makes me sweat from doing nothing it all, I hate how it limits my wardrobe. I always wonder how I make it through those hot summer months, especially when I used to spend them outdoors… Then I remember, I was in the mountains, in a valley. It was cooler, most of the time. And what I was not in the mountains? The summers prior to this past were spent in England, where I’d never think to put away my winter jacket; the weather was unpredictable.  My kitten is sleeping on my chest. I wonder if he can feel how I do. I wonder if he knows that my heart is hurting, and that I think I might be going a little mad. So much self-loathing. My hatred for time is raging on. I was silly to think that I was stronger than the withdrawal, that I could rise above it and be fine. I was confident in the beginning, I thought it was all in my head - that I could control it upon that realization. All of my old feelings came back, slowly, but they were there. I just can’t live like that, and I won’t. I’m better than that..and if that means I have to stay on some form of medication for the rest of my life? That’s something that I’m willing to deal with. Anything so that I don’t feel crazy, because, for lack of better word, crazy is something that no one should ever have to feel.  Baloo is sleeping. I have this idea that he is absorbing my pain, laying on my heart. I know I can’t just run away, but planning something so far in advance doesn’t seem like an escape plan. It seems like a strategic life-move. Strategy to be determined… but I think I’m settled.