- Oly: *sends me a photo of herself*
- Me: *I send one back*
- Oly: Is that you now?
- Me: what
- Oly: SO PRETTYYYYY
- Me: what is that supposed to mean
- Me: WHAT
I find myself never wanting to escape my headphones. I blast music when I’m home alone, immersing myself in sound waves, tumbling over voices and harmony, lifted and floating on melodies. I’m so addicted to songs that I can breathe in and swim through.
There are 185 posts in my Drafts section accumulating metaphorical dust. I imagine tiny, pixel motes settling in the cups of curved and open ‘u’s and tumbling gently down the slanted edges of capital ‘a’s. I’ve had so much to say, so much to think about lately. I want to spend hours discussing and processing all that has happened but lately it feels like I have neither the time nor people with which to do so.
Today I woke up far too early and listened to new music from an old band. I lay on the warm wooden floors of my room feeling the all too rare sun hit my bare shoulders. I ate a warm taro bun as my friend drove us through the green hills of the Presidio before stopping to spend hours climbing in a new gym and admiring the view. I got a video message from a friend begging me to come back to London; it made me laugh, it broke my heart. I ate ice cream and climbed public art I was not supposed to climb. I took photos with a friend I am refusing to believe is truly leaving. I ate my favorite tacos with guacamole and salsa dripping on my fingers. I walked home from the bus in the chill evening air as the sun set golden, blue, and pink.
I watched my friend dance on stage, the movements of her body moving me in a way I forgot I could feel. I screamed and cheered for strangers and friends I didn’t know to expect to see.
Life is beautiful and good and warm. I am happy, and sometimes that is so hard to write about, but it really shouldn’t be.