Hawaii bound with a newly purchased ticket.
bumped into an old friend and shared a meal at the airport. Good news and not. wrecking my heart and my world. fuck cancer.
About to hug a sweet family that has been just that, family to me this last year.
Roommate jam sessions and Sunday brunchs and dinners.
Dancing the night away with my favorite while being fancified and embracing my city to its fullest.
I didn’t get his name or info, nor him mine. we talked a bit and it was enough. hooked. I tried looking for him when I left but to no avail. A friend request that sent me gleefully screaming through the house and now an invitation for tea. I”m terrified. haha… and giddy. Slow and steady I told her. Slow and steady I tell myself. I find myself on my knees hoping that healing, timing is finally in my favor. I dare hope. Somehow it always finds space to rejuvenate even though I feel so emptied out after each bout. Take courage dear heart.
Isn’t it funny how lists work? I wrote it and it became intent. Intent became vision. Vision became possibility. Possibility.. reality.
someone asked me how I felt at the end of my trip.. I laughed as the words came to me.. I held them back for a second because I knew they would sound a little ridiculous, but nothing described it better. ” like a champion “. I said with a satiated smile and quiet strength.
Words collected lately::
Of course I’ll hurt you, of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, from The Little Prince
“You’ve gone far away to a place with no horses and very little grass, and you’re studying how to write a story with a happy ending. If you can write that ending for yourself, maybe you can come back.”
― Jennifer Echols
I remember the first time you tried to love me;
You, in your Audrey Hepburn dress,
Who I told you I found quite attractive.
We ate Italian, because, like me, you like Italian.
You fed me an analysis of symbolism of Murakami
That I thought I read off of Google.
And you wore red lipstick because that’s
What classy women who fall in love wear.
Your eyes were a clouded amber,
And your hair dyed jet black, like my ex.
You want to travel to Barcelona, Spain,
Where my public Facebook pictures show I was.
And this planet’s too big, and this town too small
Not to have wanderlust, you say.
Your favorite season’s winter.
Because you love winter landscapes,
Like the snowflake wallpaper on my phone.
I call you everyday.
I remember the second time you tried to love me;
You, in your blue dress,
Which I told you was my favorite color.
(It’s yours too.)
You talked about the latest in deep space explorations
A week after I shared my moon photographs.
And isn’t NASA fascinating?
You told me about a movie you saw,
By my favorite director.
You dreamed of traveling the Nile and seeing Egyptian pyramids.
And you loved the smell of coffee,
Which I smelled like on our first date.
Your blonde roots are showing.
I didn’t call you back.
I remember the first time you loved me;
You wore purple because that’s your favorite color.
And we got breakfast because you love breakfast foods,
Not Italian.
You drank water; coffee makes you sick.
You pointed to some lilies because you love that flower.
And you told me you didn’t think Gatsby really loved Daisy
Because she was a reflection of all the things he wanted;
He was just pretending to be something
To impress her, you say.
And this wasn’t something I found off of Google.
And you mentioned how you never wanted to travel,
Except by boat,
Because airplanes are terrifying.
You hated dresses and how thick makeup feels on your face.
And NASA is interesting, but you’d rather explore the earth.
You were living with me then.
I remember the last time I loved you;
I tried finding cruise ships so we could travel
To Germany because you don’t really care for Spain or Egypt.
And I researched German alcohols because that’s what you liked.
And I wore red because you liked how it brought my eyes to life.
I talked about how fascinating ocean life is
Because you majored in Marine Biology, not Film,
Like you told me on our first date.
Murakami has dust; I read Thoreau.
Your eyes are cerulean,
Completely unlike the dark amber of the coffee I don’t drink.
And you’re gone.
Just like the man who liked Murakami and Italian food.
But I’d sell moonshine for you, sure. by Jessica Monet
