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a few years back, i met a wandering poet in new orleans. after talking for a bit, he wrote this for me. to this day, it is still one of my most treasured possessions.
itās strange how connected we all are. the human experience is not so singular or unique. and that is kind of comforting.
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there are things i think are weirdĀ
but itās not that they are actuallyĀ
weirdĀ
itās that they are unusualĀ
or they bring me a new perspective ā
one that iām not so used to
ā like seeing an orange tractor on the side of the roadĀ
surrounded by three men in orangeĀ
construction suitsĀ
in the middle of the french countrysideĀ
or the fact thatĀ
at the beach yesterday, the foggy glimpse of
land,
the island we could see in the distance
was the british island of jersey.
it made me think about how the world
is really so smallĀ
and that we, humans, are the onesĀ
that make it seem so big andĀ
vast.Ā
we are the ones that over complicate
over think
over populateĀ
over build
over useĀ
over dignify ourselvesĀ
when we are just merely
visitors in this never ending universe.
and somehow, in someĀ
situations that idea isĀ
safety andĀ
comfort. itās refreshingĀ
to know that as messy and as complicatedĀ
our lives are, none of itĀ
actually matters. because if nothing matters, we can get away with a lot.
we can be mean andĀ
crazy and stupidĀ
and in loveĀ
and happy and hungry for more
and sadĀ
and lively and alone.Ā
but then i remember that āwe are not a drop in the ocean we are the ocean in a dropā
and we donāt have to pretend that ourĀ
emotions are meaninglessĀ
and that our lives arenāt meant to be livedĀ
and we arenāt meant to be thought about andĀ
cared for and loved.Ā
the things we feel are real and they hurt.
they are painful.Ā
they are beautiful.Ā
they stay and they pass.Ā
just like the fog that covers up jersey ā
just like the tractor on the side of the road ā
just like us.
Jan 4, 2025
on a walk with my partner we came across cement writing of our initials. we didnāt do this, but seeing it felt like it was there just for us.
to the other b & e who wrote this, the love you put into the universe stretched across time and met us on this beautiful, february walk, brightening our day and reminding us of the love that exists in the world.
Feb 6, 2025
you know what i find really interesting? that iāve never not started a big little post like this without the words āyou know what i find really interestingā?
anyone who has ever met me has been a victim of this same quote, with no fault of their own, i am but a broken record
āthe entirety of your life is either waiting for the really good things or the really bad thingsā (my father)
you know what i find really interesting?
numbness.
not itās presence , not its absence, rather the fact it exists at all.
i am
moved
by the fact i can be moved
i often wonder if i have felt the entirety of emotions possible my disposal
have i ever really been in love?
can i look upon you with tears in your eyes and say, definitively, i know how you feel?
is your happiness mine? do you understand my desires as i understand yours? i am but words on a screen and pixels that stand before you in their own right, words that are not contingent on your comprehension yet secretly hope and pray they do not fall on deaf ears.
i do not need your validation, but i want it. tell me i am beautiful, or smart, or that the funny words i use are any different than another teenage girls, tell me you know too what it is like to be numb, and sad, and happy, and hungry.
why do we write? why do we express? to remind you that i too am human, grappling with my own mortality every day? am i writing for you?
Feb 11, 2025
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