i float and i drown and life and death are just as painful and perfect as each other.
and the beauty in the pain takes over as i lose my breath to thoughts and memories and squeal in uncontainable and inconsolable delight.
i am beside myself.
a joyousness rises up from the core of me, a place unnoticed until now. and a different kind of happiness flows along a different kind of river [its never travelled this way before].
and i can’t tell the difference between any of it [the floating and the drowning].
but somehow i still know that all roads lead to you.
and i’ve come to understand that coincidence is not that at all. just a perfect lip upon the whitewater of my dreams [the ones rising and unfurling with each step i take along this lovely, wild and curious path.]
it’s all for me it’s all for us.
to keep going, to stay afloat with the calm and the chaos, to take just one more step, one day after the next, that’s how you win battles. that’s how you fight fear. that’s how you dig deeper and reach further into the parts of you that are hidden in shadows
to be flooded in sunlight
just for moments
just like these.
and they come.
no matter if you want to stop, want to breathe the water into your lungs, want to get to a place just so you can fall down and fall to pieces. [your skin prickles with the memories and the urgency and the planning or the waiting or the anticipation for the pain to take you entirely over.]
you’ll find the chords,
the melody of the moment
in the motion of the emotion, and in the time it took for you to feel like this, the rain has already begun to fall. like a mist of feeling to numb you or to make you feel it all, all at once.
fall to pieces.
rest in weariness. rest in fleeting failure. wait and find and settle your peace. drink that rain that seems to fall in every direction you look. saturate your soul. wash. let it strip you pure. let it fill your mind. and smile as it does. smile, and realise,
this happens to the best of us.
you are one of the best of us.
happiness only real when shared.
– christopher mccandless
you feel around in the darkness, upon the coldness of small tiles lain in perfect rows along a half-wet floor. you’ve never been there before. it’s the bottom. you’ve heard a lot about this place.
and no amount of tears seem to bring you any closer to understanding what and how or why it might be happening. and the saltiness brings no salvation this time – but it usually helps, it usually helps! you let the tears go anyway and watch as they dry gritty on the floor. the grout and the salt become one and the same. you run your fingertips across the rough. you feel bruises form on bones [indented with the squares of the tiles that cool your flushed cheeks and mind] below your skin pressed into the cold for hours, you assume, in the darkness.
and you laugh at your hopeless, simple imagination that can’t even take your mind off the hard cold salty grouted tiled floor and further from the blackest darkness on the bottom. you have no idea what time it is or how long you’ve been idle but you’ll bet it’s 3am and you’ll hope morning brings a gloomy day and the sun will stay hidden behind a blanket of clouds.
and then finally after those seemingly endless hours
you drag yourself across the cold hard floor
across the tears that dried so long ago in the darkness you now know
and find the blankets of a bed
and steal them instead.
and you wrap yourself in sheets, in your own arms, and stare at the nothing until you see worms of light moving at the backs of your closed eyes and you listen to white noise that appears as a piercing hum from too much silence and you pull those sheets up and over your head and wait anxiously for light to break through curtains that try their best to keep the darkness in
and the happiness out.
[happiness doesn’t seem to belong here right now.]
because maybe you want to feel like this. because maybe ups and downs make you feel alive. because maybe
down is really just
and you know, it’s always all about perspective.
and last night we all slept in one big bed and pearl was tossing and turning and her feet and legs were all over the place and i couldn’t help but laugh aloud, and i did, and so did she and so did leah and then i went silent as tears took over laughter and i wept.
i cried in a way i’ve never cried before. i cried for how much i miss her, even as she sleeps right next to me. i cried for the amount of love i have for her. i cried for all the things i won’t be around for once i say goodbye again. i don’t want her to leave, i don’t want them to leave. i love them, so much. i miss my family. more than ever. the homesickness feels physical, emotional. i had it figured out, it was buried deep in my aching heart, but having them here has shifted all that has been hiding it from plain sight and daylight. it’s not a 3am feeling anymore, it’s 24 hours of every heat-filled day. and the heat seems only to be building in each hour and minute i’m away.
i love this life, the uncertainty of my future, flying by the seat of my pants, chasing dreams and summer, the unknowingness. but i miss my biggest loves,
more than i knew,
more than i can say,
more than my quiet heart knows how to feel.
i can’t tell you how grateful i am for you to be here.
it’s nothing, she said.
it’s everything, i said right back.
my heart breaks as i think about them leaving. i don’t know if i’m ready to miss them all over again.
this is how i feel. everyday.
the happiness is overwhelming sometimes. i can feel it seeping from my heart, my skin, my breath.
it pulsates and vibrates into the air around me. it changes everything. it’s like magic.
and this is what i live for.
two months have passed in paradise.
it feels like two hours and two years at the same time. i have done so much, created incredible connections with incredible people. i have fallen in love with everything and everyone and every experience. and i’ve done it all in record time.
i’m learning, figuring out who i am, who i want to be, and what i want from this glorious adventure, this insane year.
my world has become a flower blossoming with opportunity – so apt for the springtime, so perfect for all the tomorrows and next years and forever and evers.
so i’m making promises, not plans. finding joy, excitement, passion. feeling, with every sense, this world i wake in and fall asleep in – every day and night.
happiness fills my veins and pumps my heart so open to love and light.