September

The moments are fleeting, each one running into the next.
I barely have time to run them over in my hands until they disappear, vanishing into the past as softly and silently as they had become my present.
I can't believe September is almost over.
It feels like only days ago that I packed my bags for college, setting out on a new adventure
With such clarity I remember the homesickness that shook me to my core. I was convinced I would never grow to love this place.
Now, as my first month here comes to a close, I am left with a heart full of memories and new excitements waiting on the horizon
September has consisted of board games and water fights, spontaneous coffee runs and staying up late, hours spent pouring over homework and more hours spent avoiding it.
It's been bearing my soul, giving birth to this story that is inside of me, listening, learning, laughing, loving.
September was making new friends, making memories, and learning what it means to be fearless.
It's being broken open, and growing strong in the broken places.
September carries change, the winds of new possibilities, and if your lucky she also carries with her a measure of hope, and courage. She'll make you brave, if you let her.
September has taught me to become, to have fun and let people in and live in the moment.
September, you've been good to me.
Let's do this again sometime.

Paradise Valley

Sunday morning, the first day of fall. I keep the window open, crawling under blankets to ward off the chill and enjoying the smell of the brisk air.

John Mayer’s music floats through my morning as I pull on and off clothes, trying to figure out something to wear that fits the person I’m supposed to be today.

And I think maybe it’s time to start over.

I was thinking last night about how nobody ever gives you permission not to do something. You get permission to be angry, permission to hold on to all of this stuff. But nobody ever gives you permission to let go of all that. Nobody gives you permission to not hate the person who took everything from you. Nobody ever gives you permission to let go of all of the things you’ve been holding onto.

For a few years I was stuck in a place where I was just gathering up things and holding them close. I really drew into myself and then in a matter of six months or so everything that was inside of me poured out. And it was a hard six months, and it was a time where I had to start over.

The call this year to go out and to go beyond myself hasn’t been an easy one, at all. I get anxiety and these moments where I’m just paralyzed and I sit there and go “I can’t do this. What do I think I’m doing?”

I got my heart broken and I was trying to be this person who I felt like I should be. And at this point in my life, I think I’m learning that I need to give myself permission to do the things that no one gives me permission to do.

I guess in these past few weeks I’m giving myself permission to feel things a lot more than I did before. I’m giving myself permission to not be angry and to drop this and to drop that and to admit when I’m in over my head. And it’s hard, and it’s exhausting, and sometimes there is that paralyzing moment when I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this and I’ve probably cried more in this past little while than I have in a while.

But I’m giving myself permission to feel and to say No, that’s not working for me and to change things and to let go of things and add things and mix and match and mess around with my life. And I think that’s what makes an artist.

I can tell you that in the past few weeks, I’m making a lot more art and writing more and making more music than I have in a really long time, and its stuff that I’m actually happy with. And I’m writing about love and getting your heart broken and I’m answering some of my own questions and I’m getting inside of myself and I’m just feeling. I’m messing around with things and I’ve really been pushed into this place of figuring out what works for me and what doesn’t.

I think I’m more connected with myself than I have been in a while, and I’m also more outside of myself. And I’m figuring out what works for me and what doesn’t and what I need to stay sane and what I don’t need that I thought I did and I’m discovering stories and seeing people and seeing myself in a way that I don’t think I could have before.

I’ve gone through a lot in my life, and I think that for everything there is a price. And I used to think I was broken. I used to think that my heart and soul were broken beyond repair. And I do think that those four or so years of my life did cost me something. Parts of my relationships and my intelligence and control and ideologies that I had. But I’m realizing now that I didn’t lose my soul.

I think right now I’m more content than I have been in a long time. I’m on a bit of a learning curve and I’m dabbling in things and trying this and walking away from that and I’m figuring out what works for me. And it’s hard, but I’m learning what it means to fall in love again.

 And I have a feeling this next little while is going to be one where I figure out who I am and what works for me and what doesn’t and maybe breaking some rules and giving myself permission and just being. And I honestly feel somewhere inside of me that this is where I need to be.

August

August has been a weird month.
It's been full of healing from the stupid things I did in all the other months.
It's consisted of seeing family and waking up friends in the middle of the night only to say things like "I feel like a hurricane" and to have them reply "I know."
It's been emails that say things like "I don't know how I'm going to get through this" and to hear the soft spoken reply of "You can, and you will. You are strong and you are not broken."
It's writing a story about what it means to be human and writing letters that say things like "I can't do this, you need to tell me how to do this, I don't want to do this."
It's John Mayer and tea and dancing to the radio and lyrics scrawled onto the back of my hand in black blue ink.
August is the final song of summer and it's my heart learning to sing again, how to once again be that song bird that I used to be but was silenced.
It's counting down the days that have passed, and counting up the days until...
It's August and fall is hanging in the air, crisp and cool, and also summer is holding on with white knuckles.
I'm looking forward to fall and to boots and sweaters and senior year, and I'm looking back on this summer with nostalgia.
This is the in between time, the whispers between the roars, the spaces between each poetic verse.
This is August and it means healing, and finding faith I thought I'd lost and learning what it means to be tragically human.