the rule of the excluded middle

It's hard to believe it's been seven whole months. A thousand things at once: gratitude, anger, humility, pride, reverence, joy, nostalgia—the list goes on.

After countless instances of word vomit and explanation after explanation (and "justification" after "justification"), I am finally beginning to understand what I want. What I really want.

Beginning to see how lonely (and not) the journey has been/is/will be. Blessed.

lemon pepper

I think there was a tiny bit of dishwashing soap in my Nalgene, but I was too lazy to go out and rinse it (gross, I know), so I kept gulping by the gallon, (as if I haven't ingested enough toxins this week). Late night Round Table pizza, late night logic problems, late night statistics homework, late night O.C. marathons, everything has been late night for me recently. I miss late night friends, those neon nights where all of us would sit on whatever we could find (carpet, couch, box?) and laugh about everything and cry about nothing. I need adventure. I'm thirsty.

a little bit of italy

Over affogato, I finally realized how unnecessary it is for me to figure anything out. One thing I haven't done in awhile? Just...trust. Without understanding, without reason, without being practical—trusting, that I won't be unfulfilled like this forever, that even a lifetime is a short time, and that love will find me before I find it. Just...trust.

For now, all there is for me is the vibrance and beauty of San Francisco, the glorious stretch of a queen-size bed, I-280 and my music, and that constant humming—that undeniable notion that happiness is not a privilege, but a right. I'm taking a few steps forward (and a couple steps back) in between hole-in-the-wall record stores and greasy fries, seeing nothing clearly, shivering in the cold, and (literally and figuratively) watching the fog part slowly.

a midsummer night

Blessed, and quiet, and waiting (almost patiently).
"Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?"
I have spent so much time gluing together brittle bones,
tearing at my hair and clawing at who I used to be,
when who I am is right in front of me.
And all You ever have to do is hold my hand.
Thank you.

cracked skin and tiny pulses

Gulped down a mug of black coffee for no real reason; my brain veins are screaming, my legs are jittery with exhaust. I'm impatient. My severe lack of thought over the past two days hasn't been head-clearing or heart-soothing at all but rather, felt like a furious clawing into more confusion and discomfort. What the hell is happening?

these wells

i am so much more scared now, so much more guarded.

i am hoping you are strong enough to tear down these barriers,

and carry me back to whatever i was before—

open-armed and full,

chin toward the sun—

now i sit, eyes shut and bloated,

wings folded under hallowed ground.

If you have a minute, why don't we go?

I forgot how much easier it is to choose you than the other, even when I don't want to. Thank you for today, thank you for you.