with more air than words

[ontology]

I've been cleaning out my bedroom, which managed, over the course of the winter, to become an eerily accurate representation of the inside of my mind -- dark, messy, grimy, haphazard, in a state of massive disrepair. I had put the curtains I got for Christmas up on one window, but never got round to putting them up on the other, my bed hadn't been made since January, there were piles of discarded miscellany in every possible nook and cranny. I pulled all of my clothing out of the dressers, folded it, and put it back in. I filled an entire garbage bag with (largely) unnecessary papers and paper bags from the candy shop and Goodwill tags and miscellaneous packaging.

 And then around one thirty in the morning, I had a classic existential breakdown -- the usual sort of thing, why am I here, what am I doing, how does anything mean anything anyway? -- and got up and moved my bed into the middle of the room. I don't really even know why I vented my angst in that manner -- I suppose it helped with the curtains, and now when I wake up I have one window at the foot of my bed and the other window in direct line with my head, if I face to the right. I moved things, and threw more things away, and put my library books on a shelf, and put new sheets on the bed, and my head got a little clearer. I pushed open the window and climbed out onto the roof, which I suppose was an absurd thing to do in the middle of the night, but I wasn't making any noise about it. And there was the moon. The night air was cool, with a faint sheen of humidity, and great smoky clouds were billowing across the moon's face, and somewhere in the distance the ghostly skeleton-melody of wind-chimes caught on the breeze. I sat and watched until the clouds covered the moon, and then slipped back through the window and read myself to sleep.

I haven't had one of those moments in a while. Perhaps I'm beginning to wake up.


(Also, you guys, The Swell Season is gorgeous.)

Comments

[travellers-home.livejournal.com]

I've never lived in a house that had any windows conveniently situated near a roofline, alas. It sounds fabulous... I've actually wanted a widow's walk for I don't know how long. I think the idea of a tiny standing area on the top of a house is just enchanting, especially when said house has a decent view.