A Day for Scary Things

Halloween is the day when everything scary comes out from hiding.
No, I was not scared by the five year olds running around with fake blood dripping down their faces, or the pre-teens wearing gruesome masks.
I was scared by the validation that today held of some changes that are coming up faster than I want. He's leaving. And today was the last time I'll ever be in his house, his room, as he's not staying there for his last months here.
I don't want him to go.
And unfortunately, despite having spent the day with him, and him giving me some things he didn't want to bring with him when he moves(*cough*rollercoastertycoonforpc!!*cough*), the scared feeling that this is just one more step in the process is lingering with me, and I doubt it'll leave soon.
I always cling to my emotions too long, just as I cling to old candy wrappers - claiming that I will one day make art out of them. Maybe I'm a touch too nostalgic, either way I'm scared. And I don't like that.

photo taken and (c) by me, Katia.

My World

If my mind were it's own little world, it'd have a never ending summer warmth. The sun would set into a sea of colours every time, and the fireflies would create sparkles across the open air, mixing in with the stars. There would be an open field of gold with one strong mighty tree in the middle. It'd have branches for us to climb up on and stare off at the impossible lengths of land around us. During the hours of the day, the sky would have the perfect sprinkling of clouds here and there, while maintaining a sunny blue, no matter what. It would never rain or storm in rage. We'd have a beach at a walking distance away, with the ocean crashing against the sandy shore for you and I only. Ladybugs would dance with the butterflies around the nearby patch of poppies and petals of every colour imaginable. The grass would be soft and dirt free, so as to not ruin my pretty, girly dress as I lay on the ground next to you. I'd have your hand in mine, as the sun beams down on our faces. I'd smile at you with my biggest smile, because I'd finally have you with me forever.
If only,
if only,
my world were like this,
because only then,
would it be perfect.

Dear Toronto.

Dear Toronto.

Usually, I harbor a deep hatred for your concrete walls and littered streets. Your city sounds of honking cars and speeding busses scratch and squiggle their way into my mind as the cold Canadian winter takes over. I can feel your wind sweep it's way to the center of my body. How unoriginal of you. I'm far from the only one who has experienced the cold shiver that you force into our bones that freezes our insides.

Usually, you are last place I want to be.

But tonight I am forced to look at you with out judgemental eyes, and I managed to catch a glimpse of your silver lining. My reason? A photography project. And so I have to thank you Toronto, for giving me an 80.

Sincerely,

Katia

Public Transit

Her name was Meagan.
She wore black leather gloves, the kind that my grandmother wears. Her coat was cherry red, and her bangs poofed back elegantly.
She sat in the corner of the bus with her hands placed gently in her lap right beside her purse. She had the type of face that, while unanimated, was nearly boring. Pretty, but boring.
A man came on the bus, his smile complete with golden caps. He took a seat next to her. His clothes were dirty, and his smell wasn't the cleanest I've ever been exposed to.
He struck up a conversation with her. She smiled, politely I assumed, and gave a quick reply. And then they continued to chat, her smile began to get warmer, and he seemed glad to speak to a pretty lady, as I'm sure they would hardly give him a chance usually. In this society they'd call him creepy.
She would speak to him while looking him in the eye, and he'd look right back. It was strange, I admired her courage - as I'd expected her to stare out the window and ignore him to the best of her ability. I saw them shake hands, and he asked her to repeat her name, she said Meagan. He smiled again.