Serafina — a daily chronicle of her wants and whims, her goings and doings, her rights and wrongs, and a place to share her best and worst.
Serafina — a saying used to express the world inside herself is vaster and richer than this paltry plane, peopled with mere galaxies and gods.
“I became the very air; I am full of stars. I am the soaring spaces between the spires of the cathedral, the solemn breath of chimneys, a whispered prayer upon the winter wind. I am the silence, and I am the music, one clear transcendent chord rising towards Heaven. I believed, then, that I would have risen bodily into the sky. We are all monsters and bastards, and we are all beautiful in madness.”
But here is an acceptable lie. Her own people won’t even say her name. She always noticed the loopholes.
January
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Tuesday, 10:00PM.
I know, and you know how our story is told, only we know what it is.
I realize, love doesn't involve many. I realize, I never understood myself, for I am always making you read me. Doesn't this feels like bringing the horrendous part of me to light? The silence had been deafening, yet with the lull night I want to gather myself again, putting up pieces together, to find a new me.
Merrily we fall out of line, but plug in my aux cord, play my songs, listen to my beat, I'm torn. Every word you write and sing is so warm to me, I wake up to that.
Do you sense my emotions? My scraped off soul? What about my mind and heart lost in different places? Our unfinished journey? Our questions to ponder upon? The pictures in our heads? Why does such pain exist inside me?
I'm fighting back the truth, I hate to ask but what's it like to leave me behind?
