It’s past the half-way point of September, but here is your September horoscope anyway.
Once upon a time, you were buried. You held on to your own hand, the only familiar thing you could find in the choking air. You must gently caress your hand with your thumb. No one knows how you dug yourself out. There is no trace of dirt under your fingernails.
Remember when you fell from the high beam? You fell to your knees. Did you ever try it again? You’ll stand up straight this time.
I loved you once, an anchor tied to my ankle. My fingertips could break the surface. And one day, I could breathe again.
When did you decide you had to be like this? You were just a child, the glass vase was destined to slip between your gentle fingers. It is no longer your fault.
It’s time you embark on a long journey; a train to nowhere awaits. This time around, you will run for your train, only to watch the doors shut in front of you. A whistle blows. A gust of wind brushes your face.
You see a face in the rushing crowd. It is the face of someone who is now a stranger.
As a kid, you lit up the school play as the sun. A ball of chicken wire and papier-mâché, painted bright yellow, a string of battery-powered fairy lights lighting you up. You sang a song that everyone liked.
You don’t remember that. All you remember is your teacher ripping up the costume at the end of the show. ‘We don’t need this anymore.’
Now, you find yourself fighting the urge to try to recreate that ball of brightness.
An ember in your heart will ignite and you must use it to light a fire. Please, I beg you, do not burn yourself. Be wary of those who carry gasoline instead of lighter fluid.
You once wanted to spend your entire life by the same shore, but now the time has come. I am here to show you new shores. My hand will not be out for long, please trust me, it will be beautiful.
Hold your tea closer. Wrap that blanket closer. Are you home? Why are you so tense?
You’ve organised a deck of cards, but they’ve fallen to the floor. It won’t be the same.
Your head is no longer filled with the beliefs of your parents. They are now an entity of their own, you are not a satellite anymore. Hold yourself closer.
Another’s heart beats faster in your hands. No, you do not need to adjust to them. Remember; your heart needs you more. Do you remember? You’ve seen this trouble before. It is a tightrope you will be able to walk over.
Do not fret; the cosmos awaits you.
Tides have washed away your sandcastles. All that’s left now is a bare landscape. A wave hands you a bottle. There’s a note inside. You cannot open the its vessel, so you must break it.
Your home is an empty house. A raven has been using it for storage. Please put that back on the shelf, it clashes with the rug.
Your voice echoes louder than before. You don’t need furniture, not if it makes you seem smaller. You don’t need a home that holds you down.
I know your legs hurt. I know that they are scarred from your youth. I can only tell you that this is growing pain. Also, your mother called this morning, will you get back to her soon?
It might be over, but the sky has cleared up. Can you feel that? Can you breathe more easily? You can climb higher now.
One tin-can-on-a-string after another. You made them, never understanding why they never worked. You spent hours in your bedroom, attaching twine to the cans you made your mother save for you. You could’ve spent that time fixing everything else.
You once bought rose-coloured glasses, hoping it would work just like the expression. They fell to the floor and shattered, and you were left with nothing but your own vision.
In the middle of writing this letter, you pause. Is this really necessary? Where will this end?
The seeds you planted in the spring, they bear their fruit to you. It’s the same as years ago, when your mother still planted seeds in spring.
On a train, you ask yourself: is this really where I want to be? An unlit candle sits on your desk, waiting for you to come home.
During the 8th grade talent show, you refused to take a bow after your performance. The lights shift. Your hand rises, shielding your blinded eyes. This time, you know you will take a bow.
A voice murmurs in your head; you follow its advice. The lemonade is spiked today.
A spark flies. In your hand you hold lighter fluid. In your head you hold a choice.
A package of freshly printed photos gathers dust. You didn’t expect your last photo-album to only have one page left. Next to the printed photos lies your GPS. Abandoned for so long, you go out to buy new batteries.
Let me help you. Do not let this fall behind the couch. You will never see it again that way. Please, now is the time to make things work.
A cut on each leg; one stitched up, one oozing pus. The doctor will pull those stitches out and cleanse you of infection. Do not fight this.
The mirror you used to look in now stands warped and dusty. No matter how many times you wipe it down, the reflection never fits. One day, it will fall and shatter; this will be the day a new mirror and a right image come into your home.
When you were young, summer meant swimming in rivers. All your friends met at the same place. You swam up river to meet them, but by the time you got there, you were too tired to play.
On moving day, a heavy box of somethings and nothings sits in the empty living room. You tell yourself you won’t need this where you’re going.
You can let go of my hand now, you can stand on your own.
Remember when you shoved a cheese sandwich in each pocket, a juice box in your coat, packed your favourite toys up in a little suitcase, and left the house without telling anyone? Do you even remember why you did that? How long did it take you to go back home?
Down by the water, right by the cliff, someone tied a rope swing to an overhanging tree. You were the best at always landing the furthest. ‘It’s all in the timing,’ you’d say.
Please don’t hold the knife out to me blade first.
This morning you changed the sheets. Your bed is all made up. You won’t find me there, but that is no longer a problem.
A book falls from your shelf. It’s a journal you wrote in for many moons. Your hands make the decision that your eyes will see the words you wrote. Your brain will process them and bring up every single memory. You will be okay.
A pile of cardboard sits by your front door. A pile of bolts and screws lie next to different shapes and sizes of wood in your empty living room. You’ve already called a friend to help you put together your Ikea furniture. The old things you had were falling apart.
Your childhood bedroom exists no longer. You grew too quickly and it changed too slowly. Your mother is on the phone with you. ‘What colour should I paint the walls?’ You ask her if she can get you a bigger bed.
The sheen of dust covering the collection of travel guides and maps — why is it there? Don’t you think it’s time to wipe them down?
The words you use are sharp. You know how to make a beautiful cut-out, but your hands can slip and cut through bone.
The day you were on your way to pick up your first pair of glasses, do you remember what you said? ‘I wonder what the world will look like.’ Hold on to that feeling, there’s still so much more to come.
There will come a day when those glasses will no longer give you clear sight. There will come a day when it will fall apart and become crooked. It is okay to let go.
There are still some leftovers in the fridge at home. It’s time to watch that season finale you’ve been putting off.
The books you’ve read are piled up on your desk, the books you haven’t gather dust. There is a time and place to change, and that is always and everywhere.
A jar in your childhood bedroom holds pennies and cents. It always has. I know you’ve dipped into that to buy candy for you and your friends, but that was not necessary; they already had their own.
Now, a bank account under your name holds nothing. It is waiting for a jar to empty out.
The phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number. This time, you’ll pick up and speak.
That pot that got knocked over last week, you need to clean up the mess. Here, let me help you. You can plant those seeds you’ve had for so long now.
Once, you imagined a long drive by yourself. You wanted to cross borders and see the world — know that the more eyes you have, the more you will see.
Slide your arms across every shelf and table. Your house needs you more than ever. Do not stray from here to feel comfortable, instead make this place all your own. You do not need a different roof over your head just yet.
Now that the moon shines, I can see you. Can you see me? What else is there? Do not rush into the arms of that angel there, I do believe it is merely a statue.
That heart you hold in your hand, whose is it? Do you see the name printed on the bottom? It is yours, to use and give away as you wish. Please be gentle.