Sunafterwinter - Sun.after.winter

"Back in My Day..."; Jealousy of Your Child's Privilege (24/08/24) By Jude Ní Riain

It's a common thing for them to say,

"Oh well, back in my day..."

As they rattle on about their past,

Saying thinks in hopes you act a ghast.

And by itself this would be grand.

If they didn't say it after you show your hand.

After you tell them of your day, joys or pain

On your parade they have to rain.

"At least your life isnt like before,

You see, now that life was a chore.

Compared to us you get to have life in ease

And get to do whatever you please."

This lack of sympathy makes them seem jealous.

Jealous of their child's privileges I guess.

I don't get why they aren't proud

Of the life for their child that they've allowed.

im good friend,

im a bad friend.

i want to get better,

i want to get worse.

i have been sweet,

i have been cruel.

i have been the victim,

i have been the fault.

I have been mature,

I have been childish.

i dont really know kind of kid i am.

listen. aging into your thirties rocks. yes your joints get a little creaky. yes you can’t sleep in a pretzel on the floor anymore after a concert or a convention. and you lose some friends. but the thing is that you sort out who your real friends are and you sort out who you really are. and you get to see your friends settling into careers they like, and adopt new dogs and cats, and you find a job you can stand, and get really good at arts and crafts, and maybe that book you loved as a kid gets a movie deal and it doesn’t suck, and you learn to like new food and bake your own bread, and you realize that the great portfolio of self harm scars you all used to curate are going white with age and not updated, and half your friends are a different gender now and so much happier and maybe you are too, and you know who you are, and that it’s a journey and not a revelation. it’s a direction you’re headed, and you’re enjoying the trip.

reaching your 30′s rocks. and i’m hearing good things about what comes next, too.

i grew up thinking love had to be dramatic.

that it needed to feel like chaos—

a rush of adrenaline,

complicated, spontaneous, a constant guessing game.

and sure, love can be like that.

it can burn hot and fast.

it can throw you into the sky

and drop you just as quickly.

but love can also be secure.

reassuring.

constant.

and i think that kind of love is beautiful.

the kind where someone chooses you,

not because you’re hard to get

or because there’s tension and mystery,

but simply because they see you

and they want you.

no questions.

no confusion.

no waking up and wondering where you stand.

just—

you and them.

side by side.

quietly, naturally.

you know they’ll be there tomorrow.

and the day after that.

and in a week, a month, a year.

and suddenly, you’re celebrating your tenth anniversary,

realizing love didn’t need to be loud to be extraordinary.

i’m tired of dramatic love.

i don’t want to burn.

i want to be held.

i want love that is quiet.

predictable.

safe.

because peace is not the absence of love—

it’s what love is supposed to bring.

i'm not the best at singing. but i'm gonna sing anyway dude. i'm not the best at painting. but i'm still going to paint. my dancing will never see a stage. but it's perfect for early mornings in my bedroom and late nights with people i love. so what does this mean? it means that people are designed to do. not to be the best. just to do. if you're doing what you enjoy, then you don't have to be the best. you just have to enjoy it. you have to live.

if you think about it, every time we tranquilize animals to transport them safely to another place, we are the sleep paralysis demon

i know it's hard. but i so firmly believe the strongest antidote to loneliness is reaching out first. and continuing to reach out. again and again and again. excise any scrap of shame you hold about being the person who texts first or pitches the plan or asks to get lunch. everyone is tired and busy and struggling. and afraid of feeling unwanted and unimportant. don't let the people you love feel that way. reach out first. don't be a ghost in your own life.

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled “do not stand at my grave and weep” after the poem by mary elizabeth frye. the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

relistened to parade day and can confirm this line still hits

it’s sad that something as beautiful as plastic surgery is being commercialized and commodified like this….