dry off my heart. it’s beating heavy now.
you’ll find me in your footsteps, in your swallows, in the shallows of your eyes. i’m everywhere you are.
this isn’t a dream, not anymore. it’s my new real life.
i pinch myself and laugh.
i’ll miss these summer sunsets. this feeling. home. but that sky stretches so far beyond sight. it’s all there, so patiently waiting.
i dreamt about it for the first time, last night.
i know it will happen more often. the closer, closer, closer it gets.
paranoia, fear, anxiety. muddled in a delicious cocktail of hope, excitement and relief.
finally, i’m hunting.
oh feel this heart of mine.
and listen. i’m sure you can hear it beating from way across the universe. between all the stars and galaxies. between all the space, between
as blue as the sky is as free as i’ll be. when i stop trying and start living. finally. what am i waiting for?
go. do. see. be. feel.
and only time can split the past in paths of two or three or four. and we won’t know until we see it chasing and clawing and knocking at the door to our hearts, so fragile, and beating, bleating, bleeding buckets of hope. so deaf to sounds other than love and fate.
oh my soul – utterly, profoundly, exotically yearning.
why are you there and not here and a dream and not real and a thought and not mine to have. to steal your heart, your soul, everything you’ll give in all your deepest breaths.
mine is yours.
where you wake to only your thoughts. haunting paranoia. sleep, sleep, sleep.
s c a t t e r e d.
4am. i want to wake to grace and love and excitement. with a smile on my face.
if this is where i find my fear, this is where i’ll find my peace.
the forest of dreams. hurtle square, adelaide.
oui! c’est paris!
i saw the eiffel tower last night for the first time in real life.
i cried, yes, tears! i chatted away to myself, mostly with gasps and oh-my-gods, while a smile stretched as far as it could across my face.
[my cheeks hurt from the excitement of it all.]
my delicious dreams are coming true, every minute i’m in paris.
it’s never enough just to think about it. i write it down, but it still won’t fall from my mind. it forages and flits, searching, secretly, for a piece of life. to ravage. to tear apart. to fill the emptiness and satisfy the mania that rages, day and night, for more. it’s never quite enough, but will forever feel like too much.
my pulsating heart can’t take it much longer. the thinking and the writing and the not-speaking-about-it fling between life and me… it’s getting old. like a well-wrinkled face. my life, flashing before my eyes.
and i don’t remember past wednesday, or saturday. any day. ever.
so, what if i take a million photos, will it still soar by so fast? just stop. slow down, please. let me catch my breath.