sometimes a tiny moment changes your life. when i was fourteen, my english teacher told me i’d ‘synthesised’ my ideas well in an essay; it was a passing comment, but i’d never heard the word before. i was obsessed with the power and even the sound of the word. synthesised. i had pulled together fractals of the world and puzzle-pieced them together to create something new. my brain is like one of those insane detective maps with red thread sprawling across it.
everything means something, and means more when connected to something different. raspberries vs. raspberry lemonade vs. raspberry lemonade ice cream vs. my childhood… a circle of nostalgia, of growing old, maturing like the berries on the bush, each summer in my most delicate and vibrant state.
the greek prefix, syn-, means ‘together.’ maybe i am constantly sinning, like the homophobic boys in my hometown loved to tell me, but only because i’m always creating togetherness in my head. it is loud and inescapable, synthesis-symphony-crescendo. but when my own heart is tessellated with someone else’s, syn, synthesised, it is quiet; the only togetherness i need to search for is already here.
sometimes a tiny moment changes your life. synthesis, togetherness, tessellation. starlight, snowflakes, sparkles—everything you say becomes lyrics in the song in my head. i’m an open book, and you’re afraid of heights. my detective board red-thread is ariadne’s, and you’re the first person to blindly follow me into the maze. follow me into the quiet corners where everything is already complete. synthesis, together, connected.
and it’s not real, or at least not real anymore. to reduce a feeling to something so plain, to simmer it down to only a word, a concept, a literary act (and one i have known for so long.) what a waste. tessellation, twisting, intertwined. there’s a melody here.
it’s late, (it isn’t; i’m just tired;) i’ll find a place in the maze where you haven’t been yet and let the synthesis-symphony-crescendo drown you out as i dream.
this post brought to you by:
- lemon ginger tea
- ceilings, lizzy mcalpine
-theseus and ariadne and the minotaur.
- song in my head, madison cunningham
- flume, bon iver
- dancing in the dark (lucy dacus ver.)
- the mountains.
- lose this number, christian lee hutson
hi from inthiscorneroftheworld! i am stumbling through insane writers block so this is short but it feels buzzy somewhere in my head or heart, small, bright yellow, and fizzing, like lemon sherbert. (p.s it’s not quite the damn scientific method but i have been raised a literary analysis girly. it’s something, though. i think. if not, disregard as (inner monologue)).
Scientific communication at its finest :)
I love you and your brain