Goodbye sky

By Charlotte Beck, March 31, 2020

Read time: 2 Mins

Goodbye sky Image

I had a tough year last year. Nothing particularly bad happened, but it was just tough. I learned a lot of things about myself, and I learned a lot of things about other people. I spent a lot of time alone, I spent a lot of time drunk, I spent a lot of time in strangers’ beds, I spent a lot of time wondering what it all means and wondering if it gets easier. And then I fell in love. 

I remember the night I decided I was in love. I was lying next to him, and falling asleep but every time I closed my eyes I’d open them again just to get one more look at that face. I remember thinking to myself that I wished there was a word for when you feel like the absolute centre of the universe and yet at the same time you feel like a tiny and insignificant speck floating nowhere. I remember thinking that if there was a word to describe that feeling, I’d say it then. I’d say it to him. I’d ask him if he felt like that too. But I didn’t think he did.

And then he ended it, and things got tough again. On the afternoon of December 31, I sat with my best friend and she held me while I cried. And then I looked up to the sky and I said goodbye to it. Goodbye to the sky that held the hurt of that year. But in that moment, I realised I didn’t need to say goodbye to that sky. Because sometimes that sky makes me feel like the absolute centre of the universe and yet at the same time feel like a tiny and insignificant speck floating nowhere. And sometimes a really good coffee does too. Sometimes a phone call to my big sister. Sometimes a song does it. Sometimes it’s a memory of him.

We can feel love and pain all at once. The pain doesn’t make the love less real, and the love doesn’t make the pain less real. And still, I just wish there was a word. I really do. Because if there was, I’d say it right now to you and I’d know you feel it too.

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