There once was something here, but, now it is gone.
I came to build it back up again, the pieces scattered on the shore, but each time I picked them up, they were reversed, inside out, upside down, changed, different, incorrect, wrong.
What I have left of before is a memory, a scar from building, a taste in the back of my throat that is begging to be washed away. What I have left is a legacy that is what I once was and not what I am going to be.
Forever has become something new.
In the current fairytales we have something known as the new dream, but here I have a handful of salt packed together with water, a hushed breath held on my lips. Here, I have not a dream but a thing I have grown for years and hovered over, whispered to, and forced out of the earth into something tangible I could hold, no matter how close to crumbling it could become.
I have myself and the thing I have worked towards.
I have a home of my own and a girlfriend to share it with, still.
I have a swirl of magic and an earful of music.
I cannot re-arrange the pieces of the story I’ve told so often. It has a hold, but, has lost its brilliance. Its shine. What was here is gone now and it wasn’t much, just a ghost-memory and a decision to start anew, again, for the hundredth time in my own life.
And what I did was, instead, go to sleep, wake up, change things, and find my way back.
Memories, salt, water, the same but different.
My name is Melissa Dominic and I am thirty-four years old. I believe in telling stories, both about myself and about things that could be true if you squint hard enough. I am from an old internet and while this isn’t a blog, it is a place for rituals, scattered things, photographs, essays, and passages of time. It has tried so hard to be so many things, to fit so many boxes. But it is this for now until it no longer is so.
I am ready to let it breathe.
I’m a writer and I write things that I am terrible at sharing. I am a little witch and I am a home cook and I am always thinking about music and the space around me. I see things in stretches of time. I obsess over these things very easily. I am part ocean water, I am part night air.
I am mostly a sound-asleep body at three-am.
I can’t promise you much, but, I can promise you this.
Whatever this is.