Dream Life

                                  When i was little, i used to watch raindrops sliding down the care window. i thought that perhaps they were racing to get across the finish line. i noticed the way the idle droplets were rescued by their brothers colliding into them and propelling them forward. now that i'm older , i watch people . and i wonder why we are all still pretending that we don't need others to nudge us to keep moving forward when we get a little stuck along this journey we call 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...

                               Love blurs you vision but after it recedes , you can see more clearly than ever. It's like the tide going out, revealing whatever's  been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbles fishbodies, bones. This is the kind of thing  you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes, not knowing the future.