i have a mouth full of promises and dreams i want to spill.
a mouth full of reassurances, of love, of blocks to bring us higher.
of words we can use as ladders to climb to the stars with,
hope that we can build a ship upon and sail with,
where the sea monsters don't remember our names and the sirens lose their voices at the sight of us.
this mouth full i have is enough to fill the ocean's basins,
it's enough to drown cities and recourse the currents.
the ocean may have the pull of the tides,
but you have the pull of me. i rise and fall for you,
the sound of my heart akin to the sound of the waves rushing heedlessly over millions of rocks and grains of sands,
each artery and capillary of my heart beating to the sound of your name,
to the feel of your touch and your fingers that trace over my skin,
as others have traced over my skin before and as you have traced over others.
let's take these words and use them to lift us to places where the ghosts don't make me tremble,
where i'll give you my promises and we can light beacons with them against the darkness of our histories.
lost at sea with our ship and our beacons, the blanket of stars above us and the kisses of salty spray bestowed by the ocean to tuck ourselves in with,
"we might be lost, but we are lost together."

i don't recall trembling this much the last time.
there were no questions, no hesitations.
no wonderment of reciprocation.
you jumped with both feet pointed downwards;
your chin held sky ward not knowing what shit beneath you was hurdling it's way closer at breakneck speeds of danger and destruction.
this time i feel the teetering,
the distinct taste of fear that wraps its self around all words and thoughts.
it crams those three words down my throat with its metallic foot,
too scared to fly past my lips and straight to where i want them to be; to you.
sometimes i feel you beside me in this place,
on this edge, too fearful to take one step forward
but too blissfully happy to take a fraction of a step backward.
you never really realize how badly someone fucked your wings until you're ready to fly.
and then the extent of the damage becomes blindingly clear.
those broken pieces still a little too mangled to trust wholeheartedly in the treacherous game of flight;
of love.
but yet i know with all of me,
every last fucked up, fractured, splintered piece of me,
i want to fly with you,
to love with you.

hello, old friend.
i've come to pay you a visit,
to brush the dust off that you've collected in your solitary internet corner.
you haven't missed much,
and i'm sorry for staying away so long.
i've been scribbling my words onto paper,
which in the end,
usually,
ends up in a ball tossed into the neglectful corner of my bedroom.
there's been a couple gems of insight,
of words i am particularly proud of...
but not too many.
mostly my words stay inside my mind,
bouncing and rebounding ideas that are nonstop ricocheting and causing my thoughts to be chaos.
but love is chaos,
at least for my knees and my backflipping stomach.

everyday i can feel it growing,
expanding,
exponentially.
i can't find the courage to say it,
not with my tongue.
but i try to say it to you,
with my fingers tracing your skin,
with every laugh you bring out of me,
with every smile that cracks across my face,
with my eyes as they find yours,
and my legs as i knot them around yours.
this love i feel can't hide much longer,
i'm waiting for the courage to say it,
but i feel it will escape me unexpectedly,
it might just burst through my lips,
like a giggle,
like an earthquake,
caused solely,
and perfectly,
by you.

/

i see the night sky in your eyes,
i see the stars on your skin.
i trace constellations with my fingers,
i trace your body with my eyes in the night.
i've never been one to try to count the stars,
but if i could,
i would kiss them unto you.
every
last
one.

the smoke you inhale must stay inside you,
for when you touch me
i can feel the embers of my soul flame,
and burn so brightly.
your fingers leave not finger prints,
but scorch marks.
light me up
and breathe you in.

“When I say, ‘I love you,’ it’s not because I want you or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a heck of a person.”

god damn.
how are you real.
how is this real?
i get to call you mine,
and even better
i get to be yours.
all yours.
all of me.
my heart, my body,
my stupid smile i can't wipe off my fucking face.
all yours.
for now, anyways.
{the pessimist in me says}
but for once i'm the giggling optimist,
with bright eyes and a heart bubbling and bursting at the seams.
i still feel like this isn't really happening,
like it's some sort of hallucination i've just placed myself into.
i'll keep reminding myself its not,
that those brown eyes of yours really shine like that,
for me,
and i'm not daydreaming.
it's real.
god damn.

you caught me,
pen in hand.
curled in your blankets, surrounded by your presence,
stealing away in a moment of solitude to write my heart to you.
you caught me,
with words of you spilling onto a page.
you caught me but i didn't feel arrested.
no bubbling panic, no sheepish words of evasion.
we both shared a look, and we knew.
we smiled, and you left.
you've read those words now,
and tomorrow we share words.
words about words, and words for words.
my tongue will betray me,
and your eyes will steal the words from my lips,
i will be dismantled and disarmed,
stripped of my greatest weapon,
i will try to string my thoughts into coherent babble.
our dance of evasion and pretend will end,
and we will stand together in the awkward silence between changing songs.
will you catch me,
for the next song?
will you catch me before my fear gets the better of me,
and sends me running?
i want to be caught by you.

i don’t expect much,

and i don’t ask for guarantees.

mostly because i fear both, 

i fear what they mean and what they entail

and i fear the weight they carry.

i won’t ask for guarantees,

although the thought of doing so is slowly

ever so slowly,

creeping into my mind,

and edging it’s way closer off my tongue.

i won’t ask,

in a destructively selfish way..

i fear asking for a guarantee of some sort might push you away.

and selfishly, 

destructively so,

i can’t let you go,

and i can’t ask you to stay 

because i’m too scared

you might say no. 

" i pressed my nose up to the glass around your heart;
i shoulda known that i was weaker from the start. "

i don't know what to fucking write about you.
this is the third,
or forth,
hell;
maybe even the fifth or sixth time i've tried to spread out my feelings about you.
every time it's a white screen,
with a flashing black line telling me:
write. write. write.
but i can't,
can't,
can't.
again, i'm left with too many thoughts in my head,
i can't decipher one thought from another,
and certainly not long enough to know what to say.
so i'll leave it at this, i suppose.
you are something else entirely,
something that takes the very words out of a writers mouth,
stealing the phrases and sentences i want to string together.
you have left me speechless, breathless, and now wordless.
what am i without words, i don't know.
what am i with you, i don't know.

butterflies.
hello, strangers.

my mind is full and spilling over the edges.
there's a feeling i can't shake,
and i don't know what it is or why it's there.
it just is. there.
crawling over my skin,
tickling me with uneasiness.
" unpack that thought ", my love would say.
and i'm trying.
but i don't know where to start.
i can't pin point where this feeling is coming from,
from what, where, or most likely, who.

the list.

the ideal...

• book worm
• finds pleasure/solace/comfort in the ocean or being at the beach
• adventuring soul... likes to be outside, in the forest, exploring and investigating new sights. 
• likes what most people would call crappy weather - fog, mist, and torrential down pours. 
• won't mind when there's a storm and i grab them by the wrist to run with me outside
• is accepting of my quietness and is content in either being comfortably silent with me, or has a way of talking that engages me and gets me talking. 
• large and diverse selection of {good} music and is happy to exchange new finds, and old favorites. 
• dog person
• a sense of curiosity; to the people in his life and the world surrounding him
• is slow to anger and is careful in his jealousy 
• ease of smile 
• does not hesitate when a question or conflict arises; does not avoid or quit contact but is honest and straightforward with thoughts and feelings {not defensive and derisive}
• understands relationships are a bond between two people who are best friends, partners in crime, a duo, but also that each party needs some space to spend individually 
• is an artist in some way... a painter, a musician, a writer, a photographer, anything. 
• no ego, is careful not to be selfish when avoidable. 
• sex is fun; a chance to explore the other person with tenderness, and affection and mistakes can be made that are laughed off and tried again. things are talked about and questioned without judgement; a learning and exploratory experience. 
• eyes i can swim in
• feelings and thoughts can be exchanged sometimes just through body language and shared glances
• likes to cook together, or take turns cooking for one another
• enjoys well written, or well spoken, words. beautiful words. poetry, quotes, especially moving excerpts from novels.
• goofy and silly but also genuine and sincere
• physical displays of affection are tender, but not smothering. understands that i feel most connected when i can feel the presence of the other; any small form of touch. accepts it, revels and indulges in it. but never smothering. 
• observant of their own needs and moods, and also of others. 
• contagious laughter
• comfortable in his being and his skin
• brown eyes
• family is important and fundamental part of their life
• netflix, beer, pizza and sex are a good date night. 

the negotiable...

• well dressed 
• good grammar on social media platforms, as well as through phone and email contact, well versed well written..

you're a risk i'm willing to fuck. 

there's something about this city.
i feel connected to it,
to each blade of grass,
to every separate stone inlaying the streets,
to the trees that whisper hellos as i pass beneath their leaves.
i sense its moods and i revel in their differences.
i revel in the sun when it reflects off the windows of buildings,
when its rays bounce playfully on the crashing ocean waves.
the best relationship i've had -
{aside from my eternal love affair with the sea}
is the one with this collection of streets and dwellings.
sometimes,
i even feel that it senses my moods.
it always knowns when it needs to rain.
always.
although, it could rain more,
it always rains when i need it too.
and when it does, i lace my boots with haste,
and i run, laughing, outside to greet my love with an open soul.
i walk under her trees, her street lamps,
and the rain that playfully plops on my cheeks.
it lifts my spirits and gives me strength,
and i know with all my heart,
that no matter how far i travel,
no matter how far i roam,
i will always find myself back here,
with my toes in the sand; the ocean kissing my feet,
with my head tilted to the sky; the rain kissing my face.

i'm trying to be analytical.
to be unfeeling and full of ice,
logic, reason,
of distance.
i keep exploring the hole you left,
and i keep finding more space to it,
more depth, more openness.
it surprises me, the volume of it.
nothing i shovel in will close it,
nothing even comes close.
i stand in it, hoping that i myself can breach it,
to bring the edges together.
but i can't even see the edges, they keep escaping me.
and bringing other people into the hole just causes the edges to extend further.
no matter how logical i try to be -
am being -
at the end of the day i'm still crushed by the weight of your absence.
i can try to fight it, and pretend it's not there,
to distract myself with the company of others,
but i know, through logical analyzation,
that the only thing that will fill this hole,
is time.
or you.
but only one of those options is viable.

a heart is such a fickle thing.
just when you think you have your own dissected,
explored and analyzed,
it evolves and surprises you.
the heart of another,
well, that's another matter.
just like fingerprints,
no heart is the same.
and even when you think your heart;
even when you thought you knew that your heart
was immune to theirs,
you find a fingerprint, left indented.
but their heart is out of the gamble now,
so the two bodies may leave indentations,
on one another,
yet not the hearts.
but i wonder,
will this fingerprint you left ever wash away,
when your fingerprints still crawl over my skin?

i have a heart of ice.

or at least,

i had.

i guess i left it sitting in the warmth too long,

and not in the darkness, where it belongs.

back to the cold and the damp, 

we go.

i pray it doesn't take too long to refreeze. 

there's a comfort, i feel, that is only obtained through cold.

wrap me, shroud me, in cold and in ice.

let me bask in comfort and peace, 

in the cold.

hide myself in ice, once more.

a crystalline heart.

and this time,

i promise,

i won't let you sit in the warmth too long.

sometimes it's impossible to hide myself from you,
other times,
i wonder if you really see me at all.
sometimes you can read me like a book,
and there's no hiding my discomfort from your searching eyes.
see also: doubt, longing, wonder, confusion.
i swing between proud of how i've managed to hide the real disaster you've made inside me,
and ashamed at how i've been lying to not only you, but myself too.
i swing between internal conflicts,
while you swing between hearts.
i hate the feeling i'm left with when the dial tone takes over,
taken for granted isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
i love the color gray.
i love the fog and the mist when the world is shrouded in nothing but silver.
i wear gray more than mice,
more than the ashes left when the cinders have burnt themselves out.
why wouldn't i be comfortable in a gray area,
even if it comes to love?
but if there's something new i've learnt about myself...
it's that my love for gray only goes so far.
i don't want to be someones gray area;
see also: a phantom, a fog, a second choice.
burden isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
"whatever you're feeling, remember it's mutual."
i think i believed that when you told me,
or maybe that was another lie to myself as well.
if i believed it then, i don't believe it now.
or maybe i do,
but i'm waiting for the truth of it to expire.
see also: forget, move on, lose interest.
i'm waiting for the day to come when my feelings exceed yours,
and yours recede into memories, into phantoms.
everyday i tell myself to fold, to pull my heart out of the gamble,
to recede into nothingness first.
pride isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
if i were to throw all pretence of good writing habits out the window,
this message would boil down to thus:
i love you, with every part of me.
you've gotten deep into the heart of me,
and i carry thoughts of you with me, always.
but i hate it.
it fucking hurts, and it claws at me, the not knowingness of this.
the question marks, the gray, the ricocheting time lines of us.
it all sucks, and i try to bear it the best i can,
because love isn't all good shit,
it's a lot of bad shit,
and you take the bad with the good and that's life.
but this, this hurts more than anything before, truly.
and there's a constant hope inside of me that i can't help,
that i wish i could just turn off,
because hope is a sad word.
it indicates that all other possibilites have been exhausted.
and i don't want to wait or hope for someone, something else.
and i know you don't either.
but when something like this comes along,
it's hard not to want to do the things you never thought you would want to do;
like make hypothetical and stupid, annoying, heart breaking plans inside my mind.
it's hard to admit, but you have such a hold on me,
and that, for me, is painful in itself.
i told you once that you're an exception, that i don't like falling in love and it terrifies me.
and it really fucking does.
you're an exception in many ways, and you're incredibly special to me,
and that terrifies me, because i never allow myself to believe i'm special to anyone.
but here i am, and i know the smart thing to do would be to break bonds and burn bridges,
but i love you and i can't.
playing with fire isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.

my soul longs for you,
i miss you with every part of my being.
i love you, i ache for you.

it's fitting in an uncontrollably sad way,

that you should leave to plant saplings in the ground,

after you've planted your love in my heart.

i'm trying to be content with the time we spent together, 

and not lust for more.

i want you to forget me, so that i can forget you.

my love feeds on your love, 

and your love for me still holds. 

i'm trying to be content with what we had,

and to let what will be, be.

to accept that you have taught me all you could teach me,

and that our love was meant to end,

was meant to end in an uncontrollably sad way.

but i know i could learn so much more from you,

about love, life, and myself.

i miss you uncontrollably. 

i love you uncontrollably.

our love was an explosion,

and the rubble is still settling down around me.

i love you in an uncontrollably sad way,

uncontrollably sad,

because this love was always bound to hurt. 

if you play with fire, you're going to get burnt. 
you are fire. you really are.
you're bright, and magical and warm and inviting.
you're everything that the brightest flame is.
and i'm the thick dumb hand that reaches in to stroke your beauty.
i'm the stupid fingers that want to be wrapped in your warmth.
i am the stupid arm that is getting singed.
yet for some reason i've left a trace of myself in you still,
i've left the tips of my fingers on the idea of your flame,
and it's getting hotter and the burn is getting worse.
i've been staring into your fire for too long,
and now when i look away all my eyes see are grey.
the grey area, you called it.
and i hate it and it makes me terrified, because i prefer things black and white.
i need an answer, and i don't care what it is.
the longer i keep my fingers in your fire the worse your damage will be.
i need to make my own decision,
to pull myself from you and run.
fucking run,
like i do so well.
if i don't, i'm going to get burnt.
burnt to a crisp,
i know it.

this time yesterday you were beside me,
around me.
now you're gone, as i always knew you would be.
the worst part is not knowing if this will pay off.
i'm not scared of waiting,
my patience for love is endless,
it's been proven.
i'm scared of not knowing if you'll come back.
if you'll decide to take your life's path in another direction,
which i wouldn't hold against you.
i could never hold anything against you...
but it would be easier if i could.
most of me believes you'll come back,
but i won't let myself feel that hope entirely.
i won't let hope shine into every dark corner.
i won't.
i fight it, and i remind myself of your transience...
my transient lover.
it'll get easier to get lost in myself as time passes,
but for now my mind is too wrapped up in you.
too stuck on the image of your eyes freshly burnt into my memory.
the cool blue seas that refreshed me when i got caught in them.
the blue pools that engulfed me and taught me love,
irrational and irreplaceable love.
the feel of your love is too fresh,
it stings every time i reach to touch it,
as the fingers of my memory brush over it.
the memory of you pulling on your green chords,
and me uncontrollably blurting my love for boys in chords...
"they're my favorite pants," you said,
"i can work with that." i responded.
another reminder of our compatibility.
i want to write down everything i can remember while it's still fresh...
every small and unimportant thing,
and every big earth changing thing.
you grabbing me and singing "i walked with you once upon a dream,"
"our life story" you called it.
or the moment you took my breath away with your nonchalant comment on how we would do well living together,
and we would do magnificent living together.
holding each other in my bedroom doorway and sobbing,
you whispering i love you and me not knowing how to respond.
showing you my writing, and showing you i felt the same.
because i can only articulate my feelings through words written, not spoken.
talks spent on a swing under the stars,
you laughing at the stories one of my oldest friends had told you,
you telling me how to live my life, jokingly.
download this, read this.
and i love it,
because i love when people give me suggestions,
because i hate asking for them but i'm always, always seeking them.
i want these three months to pass by swiftly,
but i also don't.
i fear what the end brings,
the changes that will occur inside of us separately.
will your love for me grow or will it leave you?
will it leave your heart as you left me?
if you forget me i might break,
or maybe i'll forget you.
time is such a fickle, mysterious partner in this dance of love and waiting.
my head is full with memories,
my heart with longing.
my soul with sadness,
and my hands empty of yours.
come back to me.

“it’s a shitty situation to be in,”

you said.

maybe i’ve been closing my eyes to the real of it,

to the heart of the matter,

but my eyes are open, and i realize how right you were.

maybe i was too scared to analyze the different layers of my emotions,

to objectively contemplate the reality behind our words, and thoughts.

i kick myself for not running when i had the chance,

for not cutting my losses and turning a blind eye.

but you drew me in so fast and, like my breath, i was caught.

caught in the web of your openness and unyielding honesty.

i guess you could say i hold a resentment to the universe for this one.

because when i met you i was running, as i do,

and i stumbled unwantingly into this trap the world had set for me.

unwillingly falling faster and harder than i would like to admit,

even to myself.

sense and reality went out the window,

but now it’s coming back to me and i’m trembling at the weight.

the weight of fear, of separation, of the million questions swimming in my mind.

most of all i tremble at the weight of one thing,

of one word,

one emotion,

that i feel so fervently,

so passionately.

that i can’t admit out loud because it’s simply not rational.

but the word screams itself in my mind when our eyes lock,

and i can’t escape it.

and it plays in my mind on repeat,

and i want to repeat it to you,

to share the weight, even just to the air surrounding the word when i release it.

i don’t expect you to take it, to feel it,

i won’t expect anything from you,

because it’s not fair to you,

but mostly not fair to me.

i love you.

there, weight released.

" your signal fades away, and all i'm left with is noise. "

you're gone, now.
the time that has created a barrier between us has finally passed.
seems funny, really,
that on this day, and late last night, we were finally able to connect past that barrier.
it was that word on both our lips that finally bridged that gap.
love.
the word that seems so big, so daunting, so haunting...
but is a perfect, if not underwhelming, explanation of our feelings.
i was expecting to get uncontrollably emotional,
to break in front of you.
but it never happened.
instead my insides swarmed with a disgusting coldness,
a numbness.
it broke when you left,
when you waved so slightly out the window as the bus drove you away.
the sadness and reality crashed down around me,
and i almost fell to the ground at its impact.
now it's back,
so numb and empty,
and all i want to do is sleep the next three months away.
but i know i can't,
i know i have to pull my head back into the reality of life.
and i know that i can't even focus on the idea of you coming back,
because you might not even come back to me.
so for the next three months i will grow.
i will grow and stretch my soul,
i will explore myself and not others.
i will love myself, and love my friends, and love the world i am surrounded by.
i will breath the air, and listen to too much music,
attend so many shows that my bank account cries out in protest.
i will try to laugh and fill the hole in my heart with my own laughter.
and the laughter of those i already love.
but i won't look for new love.
i won't look for new experiences from others like you.
this is the opportunity i've been waiting for;
to swim and explore through my own heart,
to grow myself and seek personal development.
you finally gave me the strength and the initial push to do so,
and i'll finish the job you unknowingly started;
it's time to love me.

" you're in my blood like holy wine, you taste so bitter and so sweet, 

i could drink a case of you and still be on my feet. " 

48 hours ago i didn't even know your name,
i didn't even know things like this could manifest so rapidly.
48 hours ago i didn't know your heart,
and i didn't know this.
this.
this bitter, bitter, but deliciously sweet this.
i always get scared in the wake of people when we part,
and the wake you left in my soul after 48 hours of togetherness...
it's enough to scare the most seasoned sailor.
at first it was easy to shrug off the sweet things you whispered,
i had an idea of you planted in my head already,
and your whispers, at the time, only felt like generic lines.
but then you planted the real idea of you in my head,
as you would plant one of your trees.
but trees grow slowly,
while the idea of what you are did not.
it sprouted, and it did not lack for feed and drink,
and light.
it got it's nourishment from your touch,
and it's thirst went quenched from your words,
and the light from your eyes is enough to make the darkest forest bright.
i can't shake the fear, and it grows more every minute.
it grows with the memory of our instant connection,
and how easy, how undeniably easy it was to open my soul to you.
it feeds on the fear of your transient nature,
and on the words i spoke to you of my darkest secret.
it drinks from the comfort i felt in your presence,
that takes me weeks to feel around others.
its growing and taking root...
spreading its hyphae through my soul,
through my heart,
through my body.
absorbing nutrient from the honesty and laughter we shared.
from this strange and rare connection.
the fear is budding up and swallowing me whole,
but i'm a fearful pioneer of love,
and i'm stupid enough not to run.

"i bet days like today make it better."
you whispered to me.
you whispered to me, when my ears were ringing with what i had told you.
my biggest weight, expressed, and you took it weightlessly.
fearlessly, boldly, acceptingly.
no questions. no fear. no hesitation.
i must have nodded, i can't recall.
i must have,
because every day i've spent with you has made it better.
every adventure,
every smile,
laugh, touch, hug, kiss.
every exchange of breath...
and breathlessness.

at first i would shiver and tremble from fear when you left,
when you would leave me in the wake of you.
i trembled at the fear of loving someone other than me.
at the fear of sharing myself,
at the fear of how easy it was to share,
despite the fear.
but i stopped shivering long enough to warm up to the idea of you.
i warmed and the ice inside me melted,
the ice you melted with your smiles, your adventures,
your ocean soul.
i'm still running,
still trembling,
but when the trembling stops,
and when the running tires me so,
i let the waves of your soul crash around me,
and i smile.
and the warmth spreads.

some people shine so brightly,
they shine so brightly and their light spills into every part of your soul.
you have filled my soul to the brim with light,
so much light.
light and warmth.
and i love you more than i thought i ever would,
ever thought that i could.
i want to thank you, for everything you give me.
the light that you give me when my days are dark,
and the strength you lend me when you share my darkness.
you, who are so loved by everyone who meets you,
you, who are the most deserving person of all the love in the world.
you have become such a huge part of my soul,
you've been gone for a couple days only,
and i feel like part of me is missing.
i am writing this so you know how deep my love and appreciation of you is.
you are my light.
my sun.
my sun, my stars, my everything.
i love you, you crazy ginger.

" when it's so dark i can't see the light, well i close my eyes and i think of you. "

\\

i feel like myself,
for the first time in the longest time,
the cloud that has been hanging in my mind has lifted,
if only temporarily -
but it's still lifted.

maybe it's the meds,
maybe it's the 17:24 sleep:awake ratio of yesterday,
maybe it's the productivity of today.
maybe its everything,
myself slowly returning to myself.
i hope it stays.
i haven't felt like myself in so long,
this is a blessing.
a refresher.
i feel me.
maybe i'll go draw.
yee haw!

// lilies and love

you gave my lilies the last time i saw you,
the first flowers you ever gave me,
in all three years of our knowing one another.
you gave me heartache the last time i saw you,
but not the last heart ache you'll ever give me,
in the many more years i hope we have of knowing one another.
we broke our hearts, last time,
but then you left, and your mind cleared, and you saw straight.
you saw things how i saw things, for once,
and for once,
you told me i was right.
i was right all along, really, but you had always thought it was you.
it wasn't.
and now we both know.
the lilies sit beside my bed, and on my table,
and they fill my house and my heart with such a sweet scent,
the scent of love.
and those lilies in my house give me so much happiness, and sadness.
happiness, because even though we have no real title,
no real definition anymore,
happiness because for the first time in such a long time
you get me.
and you are giving me strength instead of taking it away.
such strength, and such love.
i haven't felt love for you in so long,
not like this, anyways.
not the kind that makes me heart soar when i see a call or text from you.
i used to dread talking to you, because you pulled me down.
when i already was pulling myself down,
it was an additional anchor on my already sinking boat.
so i cut you loose.
i let you go.
and yet you stayed close, but not too close. and i'm pulling you back,
or at least i want to.
i want to pull you back and hold you and cradle you,
have you tell me it's okay, and let you love me again.
because it feels so right now,
but for a little while longer i'll play the game we're playing
of dancing around the word love,
and just dancing around the word friends.
friends who aren't really just friends,
because their bond is far more than that,
it's a bond of love,
lilies,
and love.

depression.

the word sits heavy in my mouth.
emptiness/flatness/moroseness/loneliness
a burden/a bore/uninteresting/deadbeat/going nowhere fast
thoughts that swirl around my head.
i guess having someone tell you it's real,
that it wasn't in your head,
that it's an affliction,
and an affliction that you actually have..

it's leaving creepy crawly feelings on my skin,
like a bug i can't seem to brush off to the floor,
nor one that i can sweep aside,
or pick up in a tissue and deposit outside,
where it belongs.
outside
of me.

i just want to take it by it's nasty little corners
and crumple it into a fucking ball
and throw the ball into a fire
and say
"there! you're gone, leave me alone and never come back."
but the corners stretch so fucking far,
so fucking far and i can't find the edges.
is there an edge?
besides the one that's constantly biting me
but when i go to bite back,
it edges away,
that stupid fucking edge.

fuck.
is all i have to say.
fuck.
fuck it,
fuck this,
fuck this for finding me,
fuck this for burrowing it's stupid fucking bugness inside of me,
fuck the fact i don't know how to help myself, or where to start,
or where to go or who to see or who to talk to or what to do
or why this is happening and why it won't stop and why why why does it leave me so flat
so boring
so alone so fucking alone
everyone is running away from me
as they should.
because.
fuck.
why wouldn't they?
run, fuckers, run.
and let me scramble with these edges that i can't find and drown
fucking drown,
in myself.
run,
fuckers,
run.

lost at sea

i'm lost,
lost at sea.
lost on the sea of my thoughts;
tossing and turning.

where is my navigator?
where is my captain?
where is my first mate,
which way is bow,
port,
starboard.
which way is north.
which way is south.
which way forward.
which way backward.

questions, again.
i thought i had gotten to a good place,
for a while.
but now i'm lost,
all over again.
the horizon has become lost behind the swells,
the clouds are rolling in and i can't fight the rains any longer.
point me to land.
where i can plant my feet and watch the waves from shore.
point me to guidance,
point me to stability.
to clarity.
point me to land.

 "  just try to stay present . whenever you feel overwhelmed just try to remember the exact minute that you're doing whatever you're doing is yours and own it . the world is your playground . your oyster , your ocean , whatever resonates best with you . feel all of your feelings and know that you are present  " 

i will hold to these words like they are a life raft,
a life raft that is keeping me from sinking into the darkness of my mind,
thank you,
friend,
thank you,
for being the giver of love, 
for being the giver of my new found life raft,
of my new found hope,
thank you.

//

how did you get under my skin so deeply.
i allowed you to crawl so deeply under,
and now i can't seem to pull you back out.

it was valentine's day, it was a club, and you were cute.
that was it.
we danced, and we kissed.
it was nothing out for the norm for most young adults.
but for me,
for me it was.
it was new territory,
unexplored and untested territory.

all of it was unexplored.
it was exhilarating.

my interest was piqued,
maybe too much so.
i didn't play the games,
the games that you're supposed to play.
i texted you,
texted you like we were friends.
but you texted back, and our conversations felt real.
they were conversations,
with substance and intelligence.
you would write my name at the end of every goodbye,
"good night, molly."
"sweet dreams, noah."

it made me smile.

my last text to you,
"don't be a stranger, noah."
but you are.
when we pass on campus,
your head turns the other direction.
when we catch the same bus together,
your head stays the other direction.
but then, when you get off the bus, without fail, you always look over your shoulder and into my eyes as it drives away.
you're the worst kind of stranger,
you're the stranger that i don't want to be a stranger.
you're the stranger that might not have had to been.
but you are,
a stranger.
the stranger that still sends my heart beating wildly when i see your face,
beating wildly and uncontrollably.
wild and uncontrollable;
the summary of my emotions towards you,
my stranger.

you.
you, who shared the last three years with me.
you, who i shared so many beautiful, unforgettable memories with.
you.
who i loved so deeply.
you, who taught me so much,
but in the end,
also taught me to be my own person;
much to your dismay.
you. who i will think about everyday, for a very, very long time to come.
i want you to know...
that you were the brightest part of my life for a very long time,
that you made me laugh easier, and harder, than anyone,
that you were the first thing i thought of in the morning,
that you were the last thing i thought about at night,
that you were the thing i dreamt of in the night,
that your smile made me smile,
that your sadness made me sad,
that your dreams were my dreams, too,
that our dreams were the best dreams.

i want you to realize...
i miss you,
i love you,
i'm sorry,
but it was time.
you were right, we dragged it out too long,
whether or not you meant that sarcastically or honestly,
you were right.

i cherish our moments,
i will always cherish our moments.

i don't regret getting back together,
even if it came to this,
eventually.
that night where we stood in my hallway with our foreheads pressed together,
that night where we stood on the edge of a precipice,
that night where it ended so much better than tonight.
where we decided to take the plunge towards staying as one.
and it was so beautiful.
and perfect.
and for one, blissful, crystalline night, i was sure, i was positive, and i was unafraid.
but then it ended, as it always ends.
with you leaving me to go live your dream,
your life.

i remember that night,
and it makes me want to dial your number,
and hear your voice,
and it makes me want to say the words to you,
it makes me want to say
"yes"
"let's take it back"
"let's fight through distance, and time, and impossibilities."
let's be impossible.
but i'm not strong.
and you deserve so, so, so, so, much more than this.
than me.
than my questioning ways.
when i remember that night,
and all the other good nights,
i force myself to remember the bad nights.

but when i walk through my house,
with it's ghosts of you,
i can't help but feel empty.
and when i walk through that space,
in the hallway,
where we stood,
with our foreheads pressed together,
i get chills.
i get shivers.
i get an uncontrollable sense of longing,
and sadness,
and i relive the dreams we shared.
every time i walk through that space in the air,
i feel the presene of you on me again.
i want the presence of you on me again.

"This is the last time you'll hear this... I love you more than anything else in the world. Goodbye."
- The last words I will ever hear from you.

// an extra ordinary day

today was an extra ordinary day; extra, ordinary. 

but it was also extraordinary. 

it was just a regular monday. the day in which i must wake up uncomfortably early to make my morning class.

just a regular day in which nothing out of the norm happened. 

but somehow it feels like a blissful day... like i've been sleep walking through my extra ordinary monday. 

* * *

it started with the sun, 

i suppose.

the sun that was shining brightly in the sky, as it reminds us of its existence. 

the sun that warmed my skin and rosed my cheeks as i walked to the bus.

as i missed my bus, and waited for my bus.

the sun that has called all the humans in my neighbourhood to open their doors and allow their soft voices to drift to my back yard, 

where they become a soft melody i listen to as i write this. 

* * *

it continued with a chance encounter,

in the cafeteria.

a chance encounter with an older man who frequents the cafe i work at. a man that shouldn't have been in my college cafeteria, but against all odds, was.

his name is malcolm.

he's an incredibly kind and gentle soul, the kind that smiles kindly, brightly, warmly, as he asks about your day.

he's the kind that you say hello to, even when you wouldn't say hello to any other soul that frequent the cafe that you work at. 

"hello, malcolm"i said when i walked up to his table

he seemed surprised to see me, but happy. 

"so this is molly in the world," he said to me, laughing lightly.

"me in my natural habitat," i replied, also laughing.

"i certainly hope you don't spend all day here!" the punchline of our banter.

i meant to just say hi and walk somewhere else to eat my breakfast solitarily, but he smiled and suggested we move to a table where we both could sit. 

so we did.

we talked for a while, at the beginning, about nothing important. 

the topic moved a little more personal, and soon i was asking malcolm about his wife.

married almost 30 years, they had met when malcolm was in his early 50's. 

i smiled at this, when he told me. 

i smiled because, unbeknownst to malcolm, the fact he had married so late in life satisfied a rather large fear in my life.

along with marrying late, malcolm is on his third marriage. his third, and happiest marriage. 

i smiled because, my own father, now in his 40's, is going through his 3rd divorce. 

i smiled because, i want my father to find love again. find a love that lasts, a love that is the happiest and most pure love he will know. 

malcolm gave me a questioning look when i asked how old he was when he married his third wife. (as most people would, at such a personal question.)

"my dad is going through his third divorce," i told malcolm quietly

"i want him to find someone again," i looked down.

"ah," malcolm said, or rather, sounded.

"it can happen at any age," he continued

"it's all luck, really. you can go looking for it, but it's all luck. and it can happen anytime."

i smiled because it was true. and because it made me optimistic.

our banter continued.

malcolm asked about my schooling.

i told him it was going well, but that i didn't know if it was where i wanted to be right now. 

i confided that i had pretended, for a day, that i was graduated and had my degree.

i confided that i had pretended to look for a job in my field.

and i confided that it depressed me, that there were more jobs in my field in america - where they are known to be a little less green and loving than canadians.

i confided in malcolm that i wanted to have a career in environmental conservation, wildlife conservation, marine conservation.

malcolm confided in me, next.

he confided that he sees a lot of pessimism in the world regarding the environment.

he confided in me that he believes that, when you look at the big picture, every year the world gets a little bit better.

i smiled because it was polite. 

i smiled, but inside i was frowning. 

he confided that every year human well being is getting better. in the big picture.

inside, i agreed. human well being is getting better. 

he confided that he is optimistic about the future. he confided that he doesn't think the environment needs conservationists to actively save it. he confided that he thinks it is doing just fine.

"there's no evidence otherwise," he said

"environmentalists push their pessimism outwards on other people, and they get behind the big preachers, like david suziki. and they think that it's bad if everyone doesn't agree with them to save the world."

i frowned. i couldn't help it. 

malcolm continued for a while with the same reasoning for his optimism: human well being is improving.

he suggested i could find a job on a pipeline, as an environmental consultant. 

"i don't want to work with people," i said

"i really don't like people. i don't want to have my career be one where i have to interact with a lot of humans."

malcolm seemed surprised, 

he seemed surprised because we met at the place where i work.

and at that place, i work with people. 

and i work with people nicely and happily.

i had to explain that it takes a lot out of me, i told malcolm how i quit recently because of that. and i told him that i'm a very large introvert. a pessimistic introvert.

malcolm smiled,

"i'm an optimistic introvert." he replied. 

despite the fact that malcolm and i have such black and white believes when it comes to the idea of environmental conservation, i was still enjoying our talk. 

i was enjoying it quite a lot.

malcolm would stop quite frequently and apologize for "preaching", as he called it.

i would smile, largely, kindly, genuinely, and tell him to continue.

malcolm told me he would change my pessimistic ways about the environment.

i laughed, and told him he was welcome to try. 

the thing is, 

while i was talking with malcolm,

i was thinking a lot, pessimisticly and introvertedly, that the world does need environmental conservationists.

i was thinking that although human well being is increasing, the well being of every thing else is declining. rapidly.

i voiced this opinion to malcolm.

"the lives of the humans in the forests are improving,"  malcolm said.

"but the plants and the animals in the forest are also thriving."

i smiled and nodded my head, although inside i was frowning and shaking my head. 

the topic changed to his home land, england.

we talked about where he grew up for a while.

and then i confided in malcolm, again.

i confided that i had been thinking of not continuing studies, but in moving to ireland for a while.

i confided that my heart wasn't in it, anymore.

i confided that i was confused.

i confided that i was lost.

"the thing is," malcolm said,

"you can do whatever you want. but when you decide to do it, do it full out.

don't do it halfway.

don't be one of those people that sits in a basement and says 'oh, but i could do this. or this. or this.' but doest nothing at all. just do it. and do it full out."

i smiled.

i smiled huge. 

i smiled because, as i confided in malcolm, i had expected him to say to stay in school.

he was, after all, a retired physics professor.

i smiled because he caught me off guard.

i smiled because his advice was exactly what i needed to hear.

i smiled because he was right.

we parted ways soon after this, and malcolm stated again that he would try to make me more optimistic in our next encounter.

i smiled, because i wanted to see him try. 

* * *

it continued with a second chance encounter,

on a sunny park bench.

i had come out of the library bleary eyed and frustrated,

after waiting some time to hear back from a school mate - but to no avail.

the sun was bright, and the air was warm.

it was spring.

i saw you sitting on a bench with your headphones in, your nose in a book, and a significant sized cup of tea to your left.

you didn't see me as i walked up to you and kicked at the toe of your shoe,

your cute shoe.

you didn't hear me as i said "hey, stranger" rushedly, before you took your headphones out.

"hey" you said, 

unbelievably calm, and unbelievably comfortable in your being. 

last time we had met it was you who were uncomfortable and i unbelievably calm in my being.

but this time, it felt reversed.

you moved your paper cup off the spot on the park bench beside you;

an obvious gesture that i was welcome to sit beside you.

i didn't.

not that i didn't want to,

but because i was uncomfortable with being uncomfortable with my being.

"what cha reading?" i said, nodding to the worn, used, perfect book in your hands.

you said a title i can't recall at this moment. 

"what's it about?"

you told me.

"it's a book about a black man in the federal state prison, and his experiences."

i nodded, 

"it's supposedly a cult classic," you continued

"what class is it for?" 

"it's not." you said.

i stopped. i smiled. i tried to catch my breath.

i don't know if you noticed the smile that came to my face involuntarily,

if you did, you didn't comment.

"you read smart books for pleasure?" i said, smirking.

"smart, but painful books." you said.

i smiled again.

at least i think i did.

i can't recall.

but i must've. 

i must've, because a man in cute shoes, who drinks tea on a park bench while reading a smart book for pleasure, deserves all the smiles in the world.

i said that you must be having a really lovely afternoon, you said you were.

you asked about mine.

i replied with a morose comment on the amount of homework i was doing, and how it all feels like it has come crashing down around me at once. 

"it's crunch time," i said.

"yes." you agreed. 

we said some other jargon, i can't recall, and then we parted ways.

you, retuning to your book.

me, returning to the thoughts of regret of not sitting down on that park bench beside you. 

\\

" A smooth sea never made for a skilled a sailor. "

So here we are, life.

You, me, and a rough sea. 

But, at least I have the sea. 

Rough as it may be, I still have the sea.

Always, and forever. My one true love: the sea.

I wonder, life, how this is meant to shape me. 

I wonder, life, what we are meant to accomplish together?

I wonder.

Life. 

What am I supposed to do with you?

//

I thought I had it all figured out.
Not all.
But at least one thing.
What I wanted to be when I grew up.
But now,
now I'm doubting that.
I've always doubted everything else. Everything else was a question mark.
But that, that was a period.
No questions asked.
It was. What it was.
Now my whole life seems like one giant, ugly, massive, fucking mother fucking question mark
?
Who are you?
What are you doing?
What is your life going to be?
What do you want?
Who do you want?
Are you happy?
What will make you happy?

The ocean makes me happy.
I want to spend my life by the ocean. I want to be able to make a living by the ocean. And I thought that meant marine biology. It seemed like the simple answer.
Ocean lover, ocean worker, ocean conserver.
But I'm not just a scientist.
I'm not just a finder of facts and numbers. Always quantitating life instead of qualitating.
I'm a stop and smell the salt air kind of person. I want to be able to stop, take my time, take a picture, take two, take a hundred fucking pictures, and just smell the fresh fucking air.
I want adventure. I want to travel the world and see new sights and save the world.
I want to save the world.
Or at least try.
But I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't want to spend 10 years in school just to have a degree that puts me behind a desk.
I want to do the grunt work.
I want my hands to be dirty with the ocean floor, I want there to be diatoms under my finger nails and seaweed tangled in my hair.
I don't want to make a lot of money.
I just want a life where I wake up and I don't feel like I wasted a life.
And then the question mark
?
How?
How do I get that?

Too many question marks.

// lost in the woods

"A cluttered desk means a cluttered mind."
I don't have a desk.
But I have a house, and it's pretty damn cluttered.
Cluttered, messy, and chaotic.
Just like my thought processes.
There's too much on my plate - and instead of bucking up and facing it all, it's just wearing me down into the ground.
Sitting perched on my shoulders,
Like a 6,000 pound parrot.

\\

It's weird, seeing someone else's words reflect your thoughts so perfectly.

But sometimes... heck, most of the time, complete strangers can form your incoherent thoughts more coherently than you can.

Like this, for example.
The image. The words. Together, they leave me breathless.
They leave me speechless.
What else is there left to say when someone else has said it for you?
I just hope that I find the treasure soon, and that my snorkel doesn't get lost beneath the waves that are crashing down around me.

//the list

» learn to dive
» finish first year courses / apply to UBC..
» saltspring island
» rifflandia 2013
» capilano suspension bridge
» ziplining in tofino
» camping
» roadtrip
» butchart gardens
» juan de fuca trail
» paddle board
» leave canada once
» volunteer more 
» go to 20+ local shows
» cook more homemade meals
» surf
» snowboard
» breathe and be happy

\\

I like to take pictures of my feet. 

I like to take pictures of where they take me.

I like to take pictures of where I've been.

My feet take me where my heart wants to go - and sometimes my heart doesn't know where it wants to go, but my feet do. And they take me there. Sometimes I don't know I'm there until I stop walking. And I realize. I'm here.

I'm where I need to be. 

Or I'm on my way. 

Most of the time my feet take me to the beach.
Most of the time my heart takes me there, first.
But sometimes, rarely, in times like these, my heart, my feet, my mind, and my soul, don't know where to go. We stand still, together. We want to walk on, but don't know the direction.
To the beach?
My soul says yes, my mind says yes, but my heart says no. Not this time. The answer lies elsewhere.
But where? We all scream together.
I don't know.
I don't know.

The next big adventure awaits.
But I'm at a standstill.
Take me somewhere,
feet.
Take me somewhere,
soon.

//

I haven't felt like myself lately. 

Even the sea can't bring me back around from this slump I've found myself in. 

So I'm here, on the internet of all places, hoping to find myself amongst this chaos. 

Amongst my chaos. 

Maybe if I can untangle the incoherent babble of my mind into something coherent on a "blog" than my slump will unslump itself.

If not, 

Well,

I'll just have to bury myself under a rock by the sea and never surface.