i don’t want to be found, so when we get home i’m skipping town
I asked my mother if it was too late to plant tulips and she said she can’t remember. I think I need to eat more vegetables. I think I need to plant something, to teach myself how to grow roots. The wind is blowing so, so hard, blowing my back door open, blowing my hair into my face, pulling me in a direction I wish I could go and I wish I was brave enough to follow. I am so restless that my feet won’t stay still, and all the wind is coming in backwards through my fireplace, and I keep tracking mud into my tiny little home, and all I want is to be far away from here. How can one person belong to so many different places? I’m feeling so much that my insides might split apart.
"I’m no victim. broke is different from poor.
I’m still learning what my heart is for.”
november is over and i’m tired of kissing boys who i don’t love. november is over, and i’m thankful for all the quiet moments and late nights and deep breaths. last november was my turning point, my starting over, and this year i can see clear and hard how far i’ve come. november was a lot of dreaming big, and a lot of restlessness too. i cried twice during thanksgiving dinner, but they were the kind of tears that came from a full heart and the feeling of always loving far-away people. it was lots of coffee and lots of love.
early morning airport runs. two americanos before 7am. lately i’ve been learning the difference between happy and content, and how they twist in and out of each other. this morning is a little bit of both.