Everything goes out of style at one point or another. Classics are a relative classification. Sure, some things come back into style, but that only proves my point. They have to go out of style to come back.
You weren’t ready to get married, but really, who is ready for marriage. And a few years later, you weren’t ready to become a parent, and you had to manage that. Things unravel over time, and that will inevitably bring some pain.
In the winter before the kid turned twelve, you were so entwined and enmeshed that you were strung out too tightly. And so when you went out of style, metaphorically speaking, to your family, it hurt like hell.
You were at the grocery store picking out peaches. Peaches in the winter were more expensive. Also, they tasted like crunchy tasteless apples. You couldn’t afford the peaches, but why not just this once.
And you felt like you were always about to cry, but you didn’t. And then as you reached for a peach and plucked it of its slanted display, the whole lot of them went tumbling out onto the floor.
You were too tired to try and pick them all up; still, you should have.
But everything falls apart. That is the very nature of our universe. Entropy. Chaos. And we are looking for the order and the patterns within the swirling madness.
mortiflying 