journals

uncertainties

This morning I woke up feeling unsure about so much.

I love Fall, but it’s also my birthday in November which brings me to question so much of my existence.

Another year older and did I make any progress?

This time around the sun, I’m not sure. I like to think I did, but I also feel stuck and confused. Heavy with the weight of everything that I want to be right now.

See, I don’t want anyone to know my age, because I feel like there’s less magic in being 24 when you still don’t have your life together in the ways that you thought you should’ve by now.

But there I said it. I am 24. And, even though I don’t always feel it, I am proud of where I stand.

It’s early October and I exist in a world that has always and never been.

I am a writer and a photographer, an interior designer and a stylist, but it’s always been hard for me to wear labels, so I call myself a planet girl instead.

What I want you to know, my darlings, is that I am figuring it out, too.

I am sitting with insecurities and anxieties and thoughts that steal time, but I am making the decision to fight for me - awkward and imperfect and unsure - sitting inside of this rib cage, waiting for the right moment to break bones and be.

Free.

Resistance

The less romantic side of being a creative has a lot to do with resistance. And I realize that I resist almost everything when it comes to the creative process.

But I want to start to try. To wake up and challenge myself to do one thing that stretches me. It doesn’t matter what it looks like at this point or if my writing is any good. I just want to start. To wake up again and be excited about the way the world will unravel in surprise energy.

I’ve spent the last year in fetal position, walking around with a dark cloud attached to my body. Afraid to let go while my spirit has been trapped inside.

Depression steals time. But that’s okay, because the darkness can feed us, too.

I have so much to say and I know it will take time.

Acknowledging resistance is the best place to start.

A Text Message I Never Sent

I know I’m like a weird piece of furniture in your life.

My presence might not exactly be helpful when you’re trying to pack it all away and move into a new space.

I’m nothing practical like a fork or a garbage disposal… And if you’re someone that values utility only then maybe we won’t make it to the next part. But that’s okay, because I want to be heard and really heard, and never thrown away when you move because you never saw me, truly.

I’m sorry for talking like this (although I cringe to apologize) I know you don’t like it, but I am trying to let you in. I know you never asked to be here. But you are and you have been and since you’re moving soon it’s time for me to do the same.

So here is the space you’ve taken up inside my life.

All of these honest words belong to you.

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.

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

I really hope that whoever I end up with loves books so that he will understand my references to literature and we can lay in bed together and read and have a huge library created from the combination of two individual lifetimes