“The story was writing itself and I had a hard time keeping up with it”, I read on one sultry afternoon in an almost-summer.
How cliche is it that Hemingway would perfectly encapsulate my current thoughts in just one phrase.
Hemingway, writing at a cafe in Paris, drinking rum St. James.
How hipster. How relatable.
Periods of transition — transitioning into a better or a worse situation. Let’s just talk about that for a second. That’s where we feel like we cannot keep up with our stories. That’s where we feel like the story is writing itself – like that magic pen we’ve always dreamt of having whilst sitting for an exam we weren’t quite prepared for. The one that would write the right answers for you.
Because really, in our highs, what prepares us for our lows? During our highs, we think we’re infallible – all slightly living in a parallel dimension where nothing goes wrong…until it does.
Until the daydreaming become night terrors.
Constant conscious periods of transition. Let’s talk about this for a second now.
Constantly putting yourself in a transitioning period – changing from one situation to another makes you lose touch with reality.
It feels as though you were put in a time capsule for for months, even years, and suddenly someone unearths you and you find that everything is completely different and you can’t even breathe.
So what do you do? Do you crawl back into your time capsule? Do you live a life of infinite transitions just because now it’s too hard to breathe?
What do you do when the story is writing itself, and you’re having a hard time keeping up with it?
You live in denial up until you cry about it, get angry about it, and sometimes you write about it.
(Photo from my trip to Paris last February, I had just bought/was about to buy Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast from Shakespeare & Co, and I was incredibly happy that I was in Paris.)