being more brave.
or trying to.
it’s not so bad so far.
I don’t just do things, you know. It always means something. You should know that about me, if you’re to know anything at all.
I don’t want kids.
There. I said it.
And while I’m being completely honest: I can’t wait not to have them.
There are some days where I look at my bank account and think, yeah, that’ll buy a ticket across the sea. I wonder if what would happen to my life if I didn’t finish this part of it responsibly and just disappeared into the world.
I don’t think it would end badly, but I won’t get to find out, will I?
My solution to being underappreciated and forgotten is to cut people out quickly and methodically.
If only they’d do the same.
i hate dreaming about missed opportunities and realities that are and always will be unreal.
get out of my dreams. i don’t want you here.
parksĀ on cool spring evenings, portland when it’s raining, a new book, a coffeehouse at night, 7 am and its shadows and summer light, walking in the rain, driving with the windows down on quiet nights, bleach and chlorine and swim caps, sitting on a porch in a thunderstorm, arizona sunrises, sharing music, swinging, walking around your hip downtown, sushi, finding things to take pictures of, listening to you play guitar, broken social scene in your car, taking walks, sidewalk chalk, sketching in a corner, the mountains in the morning, the desert in the evening, rocky beaches, Seattle in the summertime, Overcast Alaska, acrylic paint on my fingers, converse shoes, unfilled sketchbooks, notes in margins, driving home at night, sprinklers, tree climbing, art fairs, lemonade, watching it snow, Montana sky, my grandma’s perfume, the first time we drank coffee, the time you tried to kiss me, wind chimes, ponds, ivy, music stores, prayer flags and incense, buttons, empty glass jars, blue houses, empty hallways, framing pictures, hammocks, balancing on fences, trespassing where we shouldn’t, waiting to see you, the anticipation before I did,
the world before it got so big.