it still is

[hall of mosses. hoh rainforest, washington.]

ripples from raindrops in a forest made of moss. i miss you
though it hasn’t been too long…
but my sobs and your words and reddened eyes and our hands that held each other’s tight tight tight take me back and put me right where our bodies left off.
and it makes my heart throb in aching and pining
and it makes me want time to rewind
to fast forward
to just not be right now.
though i want the now the happiness the love to fill me in the loneliness.
i want the emptiness to end and the you to start all over again.

[this is me and morgan]

i played tourist yesterday and hiked up diamond head. perfect vistas. wonderful friends.

there’s something to be said about the people you meet along the way, what they bring to your life, what it all means.

a reason,
a season, or
a lifetime?

hold tight to the ones who make it easy. whose company you cherish. who make us smile, make us think, push us and support us and bring with them all the light of love. and know that it’s okay to let go of those who don’t. because, at the end of the day, life is too short to waste precious minutes on people who want to let go too.


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.

i don’t slip or slap, but i slop.

i imagine it bubbles. fries, as it browns. sizzles, as it pinks. shedding and peeling and drying and wrinkling. unfair. the price of beauty. everyone looks good with a little colour. it’s bad for you we are sternly told, from when we can remember listening.

i pack my i heart hawaii backpack with the days necessities: sunblock, water, ipod, phone, money (just in case). towel. i walk across the road. look left then right. i walk down a thin path shaded and cool under my feet, heated by the concrete just seconds before.

along the beach, i consider where to stop. i’ll stop here, no here. or maybe here. i think, and end up walking for five minutes. to the palm trees. i lay in the sun, glistening with sweat. praying for zero cloud cover and a slight breeze. i roll in the sand. unintentionally. i manage to cover myself in its grit. it sticks chronically with sunblocks and oils and sweat. i try, so hard, to scrape it off. i sit up in frustration. my hands, now also covered in sand, tell a story of a girl who tried too hard to stay clean on a beach towel that doesn’t compensate for the length of her body.

dumb effort.

so i lay back down, turn my ipod up, and after working up a sweat, i make my way to the shore line, feel the warmth of the water, walk out a little more and commit, finally diving through an oncoming wave in the ocean so clear.

satisfied with my 1.5 hours, i retreat to the shade and the cool. walking back, i get to the hot concrete, run across the road and slip into the rinsing shower outside. it’s own little cove.

gasp. the water so cool on skin so hot. fresh water smelling distinctly different to the salt my body drank minutes before. rehydrating. cleansing.

i wrap my towel around my hips and walk around the pool. i sit in a chair that swings and spins and makes me feel both relaxed and excited. my skin is cooled yet still warm to touch. you wouldn’t guess it, but pretty sure i’m addicted to the sun.