I took a yoga class on the second to last day of this year.
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What I wouldn’t give to be a bird right now.
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A squiggle of a finger and a press of a button
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My heart feels as tender as my feet did not long ago.
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Ping pong balls of rain bounced off the windshield before falling to the ground.
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It’s as though my heart is made of taffy and sharp hooks are digging into it…
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When I returned to the US after a two month hiatus through Europe and Africa, living off the pack on my back, I was overwhelmed by the stuff I had.
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It hit me very hard yesterday that this piece of my life—at least actively—has come to a close.
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When I was in fifth grade, I had a teacher who taught me more about the world than any other educator I’ve ever had.
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When I was little I shared a room with my little brother.
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I sat on a plane more often in these past couple of months than I had in the entire two years I spent with a guy who fed me lies and watered me down with logic.
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This past month, I’ve had many conversations about the temporary-ness of this life and the part that that plays in both good and bad decisions.
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For a couple years now I’ve been on the hunt to discover what the meaning of home feels like in my chest.
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“You’re the only one who gets to feel what your body feels".
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I had a dream last night that I died.
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A couple days ago I was pulled to work on the psych unit of the hospital.
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My grandpa used to have this really amazing way of making the most mundane tasks extraordinary.
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For what seems like years, but has been only six months, Willy and I have lived in our little 31 foot airstream.
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