June marks the beginning of the summer, for me. It's my favorite month of the year, a month that reminds me of parties, or state fairs, of lights and sound and joy and music. It's a month that holds the hopes we always have for the Summer; before it gets too hot and those hopes fall to the ground like most things do.
For so long, I wrote about the small things. I wanted to sublimate the mundane, to bring every detail to epic proportions. Now I'm running away from the trivialities of life in order to create a new reality for myself, a world in which I can make cotton candy fly and watch it swirl around me. A world where everyone is met with a smile and we can burst into song in the middle of the street.
I used to want the calm and quietness of life, but now I want it loud, I want the noises and wonders of it. I want emotion as it comes, I want to experience it all, to soak it all up, fully, madly, deeply. I wonder if it's a seasonal thing — if the Summer is somehow perfect for the insanity of true and complete emotion, and the Winter for the soft quietness of the everyday life. Maybe it's the heat, or maybe it's just the fact that we grew up being used to be free in the warm months, and confined to a home with school work up to our necks during the cold ones. I don't know.
What I do know, is that June starts my idea of Summer, and with the first day of the month comes this craving for new sensations, for joy, to go on road trips and have meaninful conversations behind the wheel; to sing and dance like we don't care in the middle of the street; To feel things wholly, without holding back. To read and write and not feel guilty about the life that I chose. To drive and drive and drive and wear nothing but flowery dresses and flip-flops. To live in a reality that can be pink or red or silver or gold, but never, ever, dull.
And all along, this longing for adventure calls from my nightstand. The presence of Kerouac there isn't at all coincidental.
[+1 in the comments, because shooting this made me so, so happy.]