One day, you will radiate. You will exude happiness, you will vibrate on a different frequency.
Hope will move from a far away place and plant its roots in your bones. You will tremble with meaning and intent.
The smile on your face will not be fake, the laughs will be authentic and they will hurt your stomach.
The drinks will be sweeter, and not be as necessary.
You will breathe again, inhaling love instead of smoke.
Hold on tight; the day is coming.
Today I want to drink orange juice and dance to indie folk music.
I want to drive with every window down screaming. I need the rain to come, I need fifteen minutes to close my eyes and breathe and tell myself everything will be fine.
I would like a whole grapefruit and a deep stretch. I feel like wearing a lot of jewelry and dark lipstick. I want to diffuse lemongrass and eucalyptus while I fold my laundry.
I need to read articles and make lunch, feed my brain and my body. I want to tell my mom that I love her. I want to have a cigarette under the moon and then, I want a long, deep sleep.
I wonder if you ever noticed that I chew on my toothbrush until the bristles stick out sideways. Or if you ever saw me drooling while I was sleeping.
I wonder if you remember the day I took those pills and didn’t answer my phone and you were so worried. Or the time my anxiety was out of control in Trader Joe’s and I hadn’t taken my Lexapro and you had to talk me off my ledge.
I wonder if you remember the way my hair smells or the way I clean countertops or the way my legs feel tangled with yours.
I can’t wait to see you.
We are huddled around an old lacquered wooden table in a tiny cramped booth, surrounded by denim jackets, pool tables and sweaty long necked Miller Lights. Chipped black nail polish on my fingers, I run them through my hair that is of course dirty, for it truly is all in the details.
The conversations are loud and bold, the crowd is inoffensively rowdy and I feel very much at home, cigarette smoke drifting in and out of my nostrils with the opening of the back door.
It is a beautiful balance of exposure and intimacy, and I am soaking it up like the ratty ripped bar towel cleaning up after the douche bag who spilled his Fireball shot.
(an old Instagram caption)
I am trying to become a list person. I am naturally and inherently all over the fucking place, all the time. I am kind of messy, kind of flighty, and I’m the queen of the no reply. I don’t necessarily view that as a negative, but I do understand that a little order in life can go a long way. I’ve found myself craving it lately because the past few months have just been this really emotionally intense and strange spiral and I just want to slow down and focus a little. So in an attempt to do that I’m starting to list things. Both things to do and also just things. Such as:
Songs of the day
- Ivory Black – Oliver Riot
- Dark Days (Sofi Tukker remix) – Local Natives
- Collision – Hayden Calnin
- White Ferrari – Frank Ocean
Things I am grateful for today
- The cheap ass flowers at Trader Joe’s
- Allergy medicine
- My sweet sissy Jessica who I get to celebrate this weekend
- That my other friend Cherry found an amazing place with her girlfriend
Books I need to read
- The Woman in the Window – A.J. Flynn (seems like a creepy weird thriller kinda deal)
- The Chalk Man – C.J. Tudor (mystery/psychological thriller)
- bare roots – Molly S. Hillery (poetry)
- City of Bones – Michael Connelly (crime/detective story ft. one of my fav characters Harry Bosch hehe)
Even just looking at these lists is weirdly calming lol.
If you listen to the music, I hope you enjoy!