Bobby Pins

You took the bobby pins out of my hair 

And I was undone 

You notice the small things that most people don’t

And I never want you to go 

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I find tremendous freedom in the fact that you can only ever be who you are.

And it’s not poetry to walk on hot coals or to bleed your heart dry from so many tears cried out into an empty night.

But I had to start from scratch. And I’ve been real sour about it until about three days ago when I realized that this life is turning into something truer than I thought it could. And it’s okay. And I’m okay, too.

Maybe it’s silly, after all this time and space, but I believe that you can hear me. Because you picked me roses when I was sad. And you bled.

I’m hardly a romantic anymore. But sometimes I just want to say thanks.

I did it by myself, but not without you.

On Styling + Instagram

Styling has always been my favorite way to create. I remember being in 7th and 8th grade scrolling Lookbook or Teen Vogue’s Girl of the Week and thinking it was SO COOOOL that these real life girls had such an eye for putting outfits together. ESPECIALLY thrifted pieces. ⁣

I never in a million bajillllion years would’ve thought I’d become one of those girls, but hey, here I am. Life is weird. ⁣
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It’s sometimes kinda hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that my Instagram is a bunch of pictures of myself. It seems a bit narcissistic, but really, it’s meant to be a place kinda like Lookbook used to be for me.... ⁣

A scrapbook of outfits and edits and words.⁣

And now that I’ve said it I feel free to do more creating and more of whatever I want to do. So thank you for following along and engaging and making it so much fun for me to keep doing this whole thing!!! Love you all endless amounts.

Socks

And I wanted you to care about the hole in my sock that I got at 9:30pm on New Year’s Eve 

And the nothing interesting that happened to me, too 

But you weren’t there and you aren’t here and the movie date we penciled in for the end of the week will go to waste and who’s gonna hold your magazines at the flea and why do we have to be so dramatic all the time, or is it really just me?

Alone

Feeling

Empty space

Unrequited quiet-dark

2019 is the year

I don’t know what else to say

If ya really wanna know

It scared me away when you didn’t kiss me back

The Mess of Becoming

Okay, okay, okay. So I’m 23 and I’m about to be 24 in a week and I still feel just as confused as I was at 20. Heck, I feel even MORE confused than I was at 20. At least at 20 it was still okay to live at home and be in school because everyone else was generally doing the same thing.

23 going on 24 is different. The better portion of my friends have life, at least, somewhat figured out. They clock in and out or rock at doing freelance, and even though I’m pretty sure they have struggles of their own, they make it look easy.

And though I envy the aesthetic of an easy life I also laugh in the face of my envy.

Easy. Ha! What a word. I mean it’s kind of funny you have to admit… the idea that life could ever be easy.

No matter who we are we are still human, and being human is the most challenging thing in the world. Especially when you have to succumb to the woes of adulthood. But do we have to succumb? In a world of infinite possibility it would seem that there must be a better way…

I moved out when I was 21 and, during the time, I wrote a post about what it felt like to be a “growin’ up.” I said that I didn’t ever think I’d feel like a grown up. And I was right.

See, my notion of “grown ups” has always been that they have it all figured out. Which, of course, I’m learning, is not true. I meaaaan seriously. My mom was close to my age when she had me, and I just gotta tell ya right now, if I become a mom tomorrow I would not know what the HELL to do with myself. I can hardly take care of me much less another human being…

My point is, none of us are every ready to be humans, but we have to be humans anyway. I’m just over here in the struggle wondering how come.

This is all just a lot of mind vomit but it’s all that I can ever think about in this season of figuring out what it means to be 23 for me and how I’m going to pay rent next month and get all of this debt to eventually leave me alone.

As badly as I want to get it together I can’t seem to figure out how. I know I have about a million creative things I could do to make ends meet, but my depression has been so debilitating that I don’t even know where to begin.

So here is where I am beginning. Writing it all out in the most honest way that I know how. And I want to start doing it more as I stated in my previously written post like… three weeks ago... I promise I’ll get better!

That said, I want to hear from you! What are some big life questions that you have that we can explore together? Small life questions are welcome too. I just want to get a conversation going while I’m still in this place of absolute confusion and heartbreak and disillusion.

We’re all in this together and I want to explore what that looks like in an honest capacity.

A Good Reminder

It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig. Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me. When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic. No rhetoric, no tremolos, no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell. And of course, no theology, no metaphysics. Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage, not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.
-Aldous Huxley, Island (Thank you, heartmindspirit & atelier)