all of this was worth it

you know, it's gotten back to the point where this isn't small talk.

it's natural. if a conversation is ended, you spark up another one.

when did this become the case and why is this happening again?

my red light blinks and "Don't." is what comes up on my inbox.

Don't.

Don't.

Don't.

But I continue to.

rescue remedy

new herbal remedy

in my stream of flow.

the smell of your smoke,

eucalyptus skin

flaking off like

winters dry

arms.

ocean rope

i dream and pretend that

i'm at the ocean,

i can almost feel the wind and the sand.

i dream about moving in with mariah

i dream about who i'm going to meet

she dreamt about the cupboard full of blankets.

the house that went underground with the greenhouses.

i'm even dreaming of going to that school.

it isn't for sure, but i'm walking on faith everyday.

it'd be my gust of wind that i need to extend.

i met a girl named Bri Lyon today who'd been in my class this whole time. we have the same gauges and we know the same people. smallllll world.

my eyes are heavy and i could've been sleeping hours ago.

hours have past and i've disappeared

into the ocean.

soup and celery

wonder who i'll meet.

wonder what i'll learn,

who i'll become, and what will we do?

actually - what am i doing this summer?

what am i doing for my birthday? graduation?

I got accepted into USAO yesterday and my parents showed no excitement.

wish wish wish

they would care about what i want to do.

this weekend, dallas.

next weekend, touring?

the next, charl's graduation

and the next is mine.

where has it all gone?

synced as my sister

take me to a place where there is always the faint sound of birds.

where there is always soup being made, and the windows are open.

the doors don't know the meaning of being closed, and arms are always wide open.

string is another necessity, and you don't need a television.

paper, and pen with keys and paint and string.

somewhere that feels like being wrapped in your favorite soft quilt,

with your favorite pillow that's stuffed with feathers.

where your family is each of your fingertips.

you have uplifting branches, and solid roots, deep in the ground.

yet your leaves are free to grow and catch the breeze of the tide.

take me to a place where you never feel this far away.

where there's always punctuation in your voice,

and you always feel me there with you.

i want to go with you

i want to grow with you.

i want to be who you think about always,

and i want to be your rock, your arms, your jacket;

i want to be your own heart.

i want to be the turquoise that you wrap around your finger.

i can't wait to see where we grow and what we become while you're miles away.

further than the three hours distance we've been for five years now.

we're always synced. we've always been connected, and nothing.

nothing.

no thing

can change us.

it's may

1- today, I guess

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13- charl's birthday/last day of otrip

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27- graduation

28- 18th birthday/last day of higschool. sort of.

29- grad/birthday party

30

31

oh the admiration in falling asleep

I don't even know what to write anymore. If you were standing in front of me, I couldn't tell you what I'm thinking. I couldn't tell you why I don't want to be at my house. I could, but I don't want to talk about it, I guess.

I lay in bed and I think about the next day. What I always always think about before I let myself go to bed is what I want to wear tomorrow. What will make me feel comfortable, happy and myself. You know when you can't seem to drift off to sleep because there's something you've forgotten to do? That's my something. After I think about it, even for a moment, my whole body relaxes and then I'm off to my coma.

I can't imagine not sleeping.

I've started to wear this again, but it doesn't make me feel any better sometimes. Most times it does, actually. I feel safe in it. It's last year, and it's tomorrow and the next days and days. Remember the drawer.

Remember the green beads and shells.

The bottles of soda with the marble.

Your walls.

Your mirror.

Shirts,

shorts,

heap of clothes that you always made sure was gone before I walked in.

I don't know why all of this has suddenly rushed back into my memory.

I don't know.

Sometimes I'm okay with it, until I realize that you're in my head again. But there's this freedom that I love about not having you. Not needing you. Like sitting alone at a play, there's a freedom. Like moving away. Not being known is sort of freeing.

The little home button on my pink and yellow phone. Pushing that is so. freeing.

Who's going to fill those shoes? Sometimes I don't like to think about it. I don't. Where are my statues going to fall? Who's going to build my city?

I'm not completely alone. I'm always under their wings. Under your. wings.

I couldn't say this if I were to try.