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.