Dream Life

                                     I remember sitting on the swing in our backyard when i was eight years old, thinking about how strange it was that i wouldn't remember that exact moment in a few months. Eleven years later & perhaps the irony of it all is how clear that memory still is for me. i think about it often not sitting on the swing but just the messiness of memories and how at any given time, we can exist in a thousand different places just by brushing up against other lives. it's a scary and beautiful thing, don't you think? there are things we have said and done that are so easily forgotten, but somewhere, in some mind, they are remembered. i wonder about all the things i am. how in some stories i may be the conflict and in others, the resolution. how i might be nothing more than the girl who ordered a flat white with one sugar but even still, i exist outside of this body and...

                                       When you start losing yourself in huge and noisy crowds, trusting people for who you believe they are rather who they say they are, believing in kindness and compassion so much, you start to think that every human you meet is as kind and as compassionate as you are.                                          When you find yourself slipping away into the pit of darkness after you thought you conquered all your demons, feeling anxious before making an order even when you have rehearsed it 10 times, pouring your heart out to a stranger, but making enemies out of all the people you know. When you find yourself, giving people a 100 chances before they break you into millions of pieces, slashing one of your arms' cause you can't bear the sight of someone ...