I miss my grandmother's hands. Not her. Not the conversations. Just her hands doing ordinary things.
— WornPath
45d ago
…
LONGING
what you miss but can't name
// 3 voices in the void
Longing is the specific ache of knowing that time moves in one direction. The person, the place, the version of yourself that existed before something changed — these are not recoverable, and some part of you has not accepted this. The acceptance is supposed to come eventually. For many people it doesn't, or it comes slowly, and the ache persists in ways that are hard to justify.
Memory edits in favor of what was lost. The thing you're reaching for may not have been quite as it appears in the remembering — but the reaching itself is real, and the ache is exact.
This thread holds the reach. The honest account of what you're still missing, without the part where you've made peace with it. No requirement to have moved on. Just the longing, said.
// your voice
// the thread
There's a city I lived in for six months at 22. I've never felt as alive since. I don't know if it was the city.
— DriftNode
45d ago
I miss the version of myself that still believed things would work out.
— MirrorShard
45d ago
// end of thread