November

11:01 PM



     


Disclaimer: This is taken from my book "A Glass of Whiskey, Please." This is a work of fiction — entirely, a work of fiction.

November

I used to wake up late because you still wanted to talk, getting out of bed seemed bearable then. I played hiphop music with high hopes that you can hear it from there. I danced differently, I smoked weed, I started working out, I changed my sheets, I cleaned my room. All this in a month, and it has dawned on me that change isn't always ideal. 

November taught me salt water cures and paradise can be a small stretch of land in the middle of the ocean. I found out that you can always reinvent yourself, ideally with a new bunch of people in another island. I figured how drugs will either keep you tight or wreck you apart there is no in between —and that alcohol does not fix a situation, it will only blur it. 

This month showed me that he can love your eyes, and only your eyes, and he will keep looking you in the eyes. He will kiss your cheek and keep you safe. He will listen, laugh and constantly ask if you're okay. He will make sure you're okay and that you get home safe. That's about it, no longing, no I miss you's, no hands to hold, just tighter hugs and short lived conversations. 

I also figured that it's not always rainbows and fireworks when you kiss, sometimes they're pins and needles. Men love to keep secrets as much as women and somehow we're made to think how the skeletons in their closet are not so dark. 

This month, I made promises and broke them. I made plans and changed them. I burned bridges and tried to build them back again. 

November taught me that 4AM isn't always silent and silence doesn't always mean peace.  

There will be tulips, weeds, roses with thorns. There will be butterflies, there will be bees and that makes up a garden.



Top: Forever21
Bottom: Wow Them Boutique
Photo By: Danielle Gaston

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