I Feel the World is a Little Out of Love with Me

Another piece generated in my writing group. This prompt came along at just the right time for me because it forced me to do what I discovered at the end of the piece: Remember beauty.
Inspired by Days of Me by Stuart Dischell…

I feel like the world is a little out of love with me. Forgetting me, stringing me a long, the one entity I can’t stand to have this kind of relationship with. Because Me, I am still in love with the world. I get that I’m young and that I don’t know anything that the world probably has not interest in me except for my hair so I try to write to the world and tell him how beautiful he is in his languid, European summer sort of way. There is first the ocean, or really all of them, the laboratory for every beautiful blue. And there is the sun that paints the sky twice a day like an artists’ brush falling to the ground. I love wind pirouetting through a wind chime, in a very inefficient and graceful maneuver. I love giggling, mostly done by children and people about to be in love.
I love witty banter. I love the heat from the sun for about ten minutes and the freckles it brings. I love the idea that there are too many books in the world to read so I can stop trying to know everything. I love the idea that time has taught me this lesson and that time is holding out on me and that I will someday know other things just as profound. I love to sing and I love that my body is an instrument. I love every wrong note and that they mean I have something to work for.
I love the way flowers brighten up any space and have beautiful colors and beautiful names like chrysanthemum and violet and honeysuckle and foxglove and peony and peace rose. I love the moon and all of her peaceful prayers as she sands the land with light, varnishes it with a glow. I love the energy of rain falling and filling the ocean to its’ brim. I love castles in Ireland I’ve never seen. I love the tide who always comes back. I love the way a gold fish inhabits a bowl, sometimes haphazardly and sometimes deliberately. I love how the anthem red of a flame inspires.
And I love when the world is out of love with me because then he makes me remember all things I love about him so that I will not get angry and pick a fight, I love that he loves me back by being beautiful and I love that it is my job to remember this, to climb back up to this knowledge every time I fall or pushed or can’t find a lovely hand hold.