🖤
the other day i went out to an unfinished nuclear plant with some old highschool friends. we cut a hole in the fence and ran to one of the massive, truly massive cooling towers. it was terrifyingly big, like really, seriously, huge. it was my third time there and definitely had not lost any of its effect on me. the four of us stood underneath it for a good forty minutes. looking up through the top to see the last touch of sunset resting on the rim, and later planets. we stood there for long stretches of silence until someone would shift their weight and the crunch of a couple pebbles underfoot would echo so loud and clear we could all hear it.
we sang there in the echo beneath the tower until it was totally dark.
later, in the front seat of my best friend‘s car as we played american football i cried. i don’t think anyone noticed, i think they were busy with whatever they were thinking about. i cried because of how long i had gone wanting this feeling. that i hadn’t seen these old friends in months and had been struggling to meet anyone i felt could be the kind of people i wanted to really love like i did my friends from highschool.
i want people to love so badly, to go to a sketchy abandoned nuclear plant and watch the sunset and sing together. we forget how long it takes to make friends like that i guess. it’s only been one semester, and i shouldn‘t let that be me down.
i love you all so much :)
Jan 29, 2025
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Sometimes it just pops out of nowhere, sometimes it’s just a passing memory and sometimes out of the blue I feel the weight of what happened. I had a best friend, a person with which I connected in a way I never did with anyone. She moved out of the city and with that she stopped any communication with me. I miss her. I miss her so much. I feel like I must have fucked up big time for this to be happening. In our last call I told her I was worried we would lose contact with the distance and she told me it would never happen. I believed her. It’s a weird sadness; most of the time I can see clearly that more than try to text her I cannot do much and I’m angry or confused about the situation but it passes, I go by my day. But sometimes this wave of sadness arrives and I remember how she made me laugh, how she looked at me, the day we actually talked like friends for the first time and then it hits me that we might have spoken for the last time. how could that be? I still believe her. One day she’ll call me and my memories of today will fade and get replaced by others of us together.
I should have called her more, told her more times how I loved her, how she was beautiful, we should have gone to more concerts together, we should have said yes to that dude who wanted to interview us for a tiktok. We should have when there still was a we.
One day talking about relationships, I mentioned how incapable I am at letting go and how sometimes I start to resent the person I can’t let go for the things we do to each other. So maybe it’s all for the best, maybe I’m being spared, maybe it will save our memories from being tainted, maybe that‘s all the time meant for us. I don’t know but I wish I did.
Jan 18, 2025
♥️
my mom grew up going to the Heart and i had the privilege of attending twice as a young girl during our brief furloughs in the States. i loved camp: the traditions, the horses, the crafts, the songs. most of all i loved the Guadalupe: serene green and shaded by cypress. we practiced swimming, canoeing, and fishing, and spent reflective Sunday mornings dressed in white by its banks. despite last week's destruction, i wouldn't trade our time by the river for anything.
my time there wasn't perfect. i spent my days trying to navigate a culture i only experienced every four years. during afternoon siestas, i begged God over and over to delay the rapture so my parents would still be on earth to pick me up after camp. i cried in the bathroom for reasons i don't remember, wading through that difficult stage of having emotions too big for my growing body.
the year i left Thailand for college, Jane Ragsdale personally invited me to work as a counselor-in-training. honored, i agreed and spent the summer reconnecting to the roots i never claimed in Texas. i met parents who went to camp with my mother and saw her portrait on the wall of the office, a smiling young recipient of the Jo Jones award given to a camper demonstrating the highest character. while i still felt as awkward as ever among my more confident peers, i felt reassured that i belonged.
i returned as a full-fledged counselor after my freshman year, but this time a culture of resentment towards leadership was brewing. by the end of summer, the internal tensions had erupted. i had seen behind the curtain and was devastated to find that not even the Heart - this heaven on earth - was left untouched. even Jane was more human and complex than i wanted to believe. my grandparents picked me up and i tried to leave it all behind.
in the years that followed, i would suddenly be reminded: the smell of cypress, the soft coo of a mourning dove, the lyrics of a silly camp song. it felt like a long-gone era i couldn't speak about with anyone. over time, i learned to hold it all close: the disillusionment and the bone-deep feelings of awe.
when i saw the footage of the devastated Heart, i couldn't believe my eyes. i've seen destruction before, but never on paths i've walked for months on end. the river i loved turned monstrous, sweeping decades of history away overnight. i checked the camp's Facebook and read the horrible news. our Jane, the Heart's constant presence, was among the dead. i'll never forget her rosy-cheeked smile, her love for ice cream, her sure voice over guitar strums in the dining hall or by the waterfront. and most of all, how she always saw me, remembered me, and welcomed me in. as a little shy girl and an older shy college student, that meant everything to me and always will.
4d ago
woke up from a dream where my friend died, so i came into the day emotionally weird. took the train to see the fall leaves in a small town + pick up some CDs off facebook marketplace. i wrote my friend (who did not actually die) a long letter about how much i love them & just noticed so much life around me. golden hour on the train back while i listened to one of my favorite albums, it finished right as i got off the train and the sun set over the boston common. i’m not always certain that i feel the love i’m supposed to, but some days i’m overflowing with it. you just have to ride the waves i guess
Apr 14, 2025
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boy do i love hitbox. totally legit, nu, textural awesomeness.
not to mention only a two piece.
Jan 30, 2025