I remember how it felt when you touched the nape of my neck, your eyes dimmed with concern. You asked me why I cried so much and so quietly but I didn’t know how to tell you that happiness has taught me that tears are not only for sadness. I was afraid to tell you that I loved you in this all-consuming way that I all I could do was cry because every part of my trembling body was full and burning. And I remember thinking that I hoped you didn’t mind that I ached so loudly. And I hope that it’s burning through you too. This altogether fear and bliss and longing.
you know what, i get it, complacency is easy. but you know what, we’re not alive for “easy”
- when sarah kay says: getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air
- editor ordering pizza for lunch
so lately my feelings have decided to cartwheel around my head and my room and i have forgotten to be kind so i came up with a plan. i will start writing down things i am grateful for because this is the only way i can stop the cartwheeling.
today i am thankful for:
- peebee’s friend cyrene who took us out for free mcdonalds
- carrot cake
- run-on sentences
- blue by joni mitchell
summer must do list:
- find an apartment
- read a biography/memoir and actually finish it
- buy dslr, shoot everything and everyone, print everything
- read more non-fiction
- swim more
- more picnics
- road trip
to be continued
- start those darn scrapbooks
- g test
I want to be fifteen again. There, I said it.
The way he tilts my chin up to catch my gaze.
“Look at me, look at me. I love you.”
I miss home all the time. They say home is where your heart is and where your cherished ones are. So home is here, they say. It’s always here, wherever you are. But home will always be where the banana groves are, where there are honking jeepneys and hot street tempura. Home will always be the sweet smell of coconut juice and the clacking of tartanillas passing by my grandmother’s wooden shack. Home will always be Iligan.
