pull my heart out [like a rug] from underneath me.

it’s beating fast tonight. something has me on edge. i’m snappy and i’m angry and i’m taking it out on people i love most. i’m sorry, i am.

i think it’s because she’s leaving. a wonderful girl – running away to chase her dreams – flying to london tomorrow, to see the bridge fall down, ride a double decker bus, eat scones, wave to the queen, and do everything else you do there. not that it’s new, to her.

in a serious way, i’ll miss her like mad. but the excitement i feel for her swells in my veins. the love i feel for the moments i know await her, is physical. overwhelming. it’s like a dream you can’t escape – fluid and vivid and full of scents that pull memories to mind. 

and i’ll be there soon enough, feeling something new everyday. finding my way, wandering in lust for the big fat world eating me up.

bon voyage ranny. may every moment be food for your soul.

mkt.

cut from the same cloth, us two. i’ll miss him when he leaves – for that enormous world of unending possibilities. but life doesn’t change when you’re on the same path – here or there. anywhere.

hearts and momentum, of time as it should be. moving with us, with our step, with the pace of our souls. we’re all intertwined by fate. that invisible red thread, tugging at our heartbeat, our wrists and ankles – tying us to each other, our neighbours and our friends, and strangers down the street. it’s a never ending race track of dreams one step ahead.

you’re certainly catching yours, my friend.

pru. she was away for a while. doing something meaningful. filling little lives with hope. i missed her.

there’s something about pru and i. i’ll always have a huge amount of love for this kid.

in mysterious ways.

she told me these things. and people ask: but now that you know, aren’t you looking for that? well, yes. i am. unfortunately, but fortunately.

i told my friend alex today. (alex, who is always there to listen to my struggles. who offers fabulous advice. and always barracks for the underdog.) i told her that i recognised it because i knew it. it was fate all along. fate that i’d see her and be told what i was told. it was fate, because maybe i needed something to push me into it. to make me see it. open my eyes to an opportunity that might not have been anything at all, if i didn’t know it first.

it’s interesting to think about, nonetheless. 

so yes, now i look for all those things. those things the psychic told me. be as cynical as you want. but it’s already falling into place. or placing itself somehow, surrounding my life in moments made too perfectly to be just a coincidence. it was always meant to be this way. 

boo boo.

and at that moment, i was overcome by an absolute wave of emotion.

i wish it too, brooke. we had that bucket list we were ticking life from. slowly creating memories, slowly seeing our lives fall into place. the momentum of it all pushing us to the next.

check, check, check.

i read that sentence you wrote to me and it brought back those feelings of all those outrageous and fun times we shared. you’re so right, ying and yang. 

if only adelaide was in sydney, you said. if only.

and on that bucket list? the dream to live together, one day. you and i. painting our nails at midnight and drinking wine till our lips turn red. speaking about life until we’re blue in the face and finding the moments to spend with each other between life and other things. being kids and being grown ups and knowing it’s okay to be both.

i miss the life we had together. but we’ve grown; on our own, in different cities, with different friends and different lives. it’s that thread pulling at our ankles and our wrists, keeping us somehow together.

if you tug, i’ll follow.

love you dad.

she lost her father. two nights ago, he passed away in his sleep. he was sick, but still, a shock. she didn’t get to say goodbye.

in his leaving, four children stayed behind. the youngest, 12. a boy growing up without a dad. without that one person to teach him and mould him into someone to be proud of. a man.

another friend grew up without her dad. he died in a car accident. lost too soon.

she and i once took a trip to the beach, on his anniversary, at night, to sit on the sand and watch the stars. they scattered his ashes in the ocean. he became part of the sand, no matter where she was, the beach kept him with her.

these friends of mine, going through life without that figure of strength and guidance.