•September 22, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Hello, sun! I was waiting to tell you about all the trippy days and the million ways that have convinced me that everything is magic, that everything is merely another chance to come back to your true self with love. 

•September 22, 2017 • Leave a Comment

She smells like light, like the newest moon blinking confused in the inky sky, like the dream that stays with you for a second after you wake up and teases you the entire day, like bed after a long day, like ink on skin, of stories yet to be written and those that have been told for millennia. 

•September 22, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Slipping my hand in yours, I pull you closer, I want to tell you you’re mine, I want to tell you that maybe, just maybe, we haven’t fucked up this time around. The world might tell us we’re heading in a dangerous direction and we aren’t strong or young enough anymore, but we show it the middle finger and walk on, drunk on some kind of love liquor. 

•September 22, 2017 • Leave a Comment

We want to be seen as our whole damn timeline, not as a fragment, and certainly not as a phase because we value our journey with all its highs and lows (whatever we may say and whether or not it holds any practical bearing on us in life). Too often we’ve had to defend ourselves while the world pointed out the chinks in our personality and we held it together, refusing to explain, we fell repeatedly but refused to cry over scraped knees and ignored love. So we made ourselves the best uniform, us crazy warriors. We owned that shit. We said fuck you to the world and said, we can do this ourselves. We are good, we are enough. We can do this on our own. But the heart of a lover will always be the heart of a lover. 

And now, when our strange softness trickles from under cracks we hastily mended (or ignored), we get alarmed. Without meaning to we swing from face to face to face – the entire spectrum – sometimes to warn, sometimes naturally, but always with this secret, mad desire to not have to explain and yet be understood correctly for once. Miraculously. We want to be seen and loved as us, not more, not less, just us. 

Have you ever had a pair of honest, kind eyes look at you, just look into yours for a long, silent minute? It’s the kind of moment you never forget. It’s the kind of kindness I crave when I feel life give me a swift kick in the stomach. Just a pair of honest, kind eyes seeing into my soul, and honoring the dense map I’m trying to navigate. 

•September 22, 2017 • Leave a Comment

You’re (more than) enough to be a home, girl. Be home. Because you will need to return to you too. So do it for you, if anything. Be home. (Be a home that recognizes and honors its own homeliness)

•September 20, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Open your heart, I’m coming home ⭐️

•September 19, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Each time the world asked why her eyes were always hungry – Do you need something? – she felt herself connect some dots in her vast, old soul to create a vague need. 

Yes, she would whisper, half to herself. 

She remembered everything – fleeting hugs, hurried kisses, borrowed time. She savored it all, she breathed it all in, knowing she would have to summon it at a later date when her night would be a worn out diary and a procession of lonely joints. Imagine her surprise when one day, she opened her memory and everything, stale. Everything, distasteful. This was not what she wanted. She was hungry for something more, something real, something hers. 

So she decided to empty her knapsack of old trinkets and trudged on to solitude, to lonelier plains where tall grass could hide her form. She was used to hasty healing but this time, the soreness felt better. 

On she went, her heart oddly light as her eye roved over the clouds – wispy white, now almost gone, now dark and darker and darker, and then some pink burst of sun across fluff, a sudden change of weather. She knew it meant something but she knew it was also just a perfect moment. 

It didn’t take long before she stopped for rest, her body craving ground, her mind craving love. She looked up and saw a man smiling at his own thought, now sullen, now smirking, now humming. She watched him for a few minutes, tears welling up in her eyes. And for the first time, she had the courage to walk up to someone and say the following sentence clearly, a tremble in her soul – excuse me, I think I need your help.