andover writes

i want to wish you the best but i can’t get myself to i have no ill will but with how things turned out i only lament on what was i’ve looked in on your moved on life and you seem well but i don’t know you anymore and i don’t know when that changed i don’t know when you changed sometimes i wish we’d never met that none of it happened maybe things would be different with how things turned out but i doubt it i’ve looked back on my stagnant life and i’m not well i don’t know me anymore and i don’t know when that changed i don’t know if i ever did what is this all for? what is this all for? i guess i should be glad you’re doing well but i can’t with how things turned out when i wasn’t worth knowing in this life you’re living

i pass the house full of lawn chairs as i round the corner onto my street. it smells of campfire smoke and chlorine. the cacophony of colours littering the yard is jarring. there is barely any space to sit. it is the most out of place sight on my ride home. and i live in a city where most things feel weird and unusual. i slow down as i reach my block of flats. getting off my bike, i tuck my arm under the frame to carry it up the stairs. my bike leans against the kitchen wall as i settle back into home, with limited seating areas only meant for the two of us who actually live here.

we are on the highway, driving towards southern oregon. k. is waiting for our arrival. i am trying to stay awake, but long drives tire me. t. asked me not to fall asleep or they might get tired. we’re heading into the pass now and have to be careful. it is as beautiful as it is dangerous. we’re not quite out of winter yet so the conditions are still slippery. these roads have seen many harrowing moments. we know these twists and turns enough to make it down safely. we’ll be in the high desert soon. for now, it is a white blanketed world out there. towering pines lifting their arms to hold pillows. snow falls like confetti, blowing towards us. the mountains surprising us at a party.

leaves crush under our shoes. we kick our feet through fire-coloured piles. the season is full. carved pumpkins sit on stoops. fabric ghosts hang from trees. our neighbourhood is alight with colours, a bold change. we collect foliage in our cardigans. the wind whistles, rustling the leaves off their branches. t. pulls their jumper closed a little tighter. i tug my beanie over my ears. 11am never looked this good. i am anticipating the coffee that awaits us. moving out here was the right thing.

the sun lays waste to a dry world. a landscape on the opposite side of the planet. i am weary after two days. i hold my pack on my back as if it’s all i have left. i don’t think i’ll feel elsewhere until the routine changes. what is to come is definitely not anything i’ve found myself doing in a while. i worry i won’t adjust, forget what i’m doing. but with all things you go back to, they come back to you as well. i walk into the crowded building looking for a familiar face. i spot him and everything comes back. i miss ten years ago as much as i am excited for this one. b. and i decide to wait for more of our team. they’ll arrive to a welcome parade of two.

the sky is clear. i see ships on the bosporus slowly setting out to sea. we eat in pleasant quiet on the rooftop of our hotel. we drink coffee i’ve come to not care for. i don’t like the grounds lingering in the bottom of my cup. i smell like the spices and tea i packed away. a. will love scarf i’m bringing home as mom had a similar one. we have some historical sites to explore today before we head far south. i’m taking in one last long look at a place i never thought to visit. it has been colorful and full of life. and when i return i won’t be led astray by any travel companion who swears they know where they’re going in a city they haven’t visited in over a decade.

there is quiet but upbeat music playing in the kaffe. one of the baristas is explaining pour over processes to the other barista. european coffee roasters line the glass case at the counter. i am eating a cardamom bun as the last of the foam from my oat flat white settles on the bottom of my cup. a man reads a book next to me; conversations take place at nearby tables. i see the people backlit and bright. i am reminiscing about this city, although i haven’t left yet. i will remember it fondly when i leave today.

you were everything and then nothing i thought you needed me but you just needed me to want you you had no issue finding someone else when i wasn’t enough i never thought you’d throw me away like an old shirt that no longer fits or a frayed book that’s lost its charm was i just a reminder of something you hoped to forget or was i that forgettable because you’ve been ingrained in me and i keep telling myself that i need to let go but i still search for you just looking in on your moved on life wondering whether or not you’d ever reach out and i don’t know what would hurt worse this life without you or hearing from you so content because i’ve become so uneased

the sky is a wispy blue and white outside oracle. d. remembered my order, even though i don't see him as often. the trip looms over me, a mix of excitement and fear. i feel them both and then nothing at all. i want this all to hit me. when will it feel real? i still have work today, carrying on as normal. i got up early for this; a last favourite coffee. it's two weeks. i'll be fine. i wonder what my morning sky will look like in all the places i'll be. i'll try to describe it when i see it. in about twenty-four hours i'll be in europe. i want this.

how do i function without a function? all the cogs are misfiring, i know as you're pulling out the screws i see you trying to build a better version when i'm still right here as if you've lost your interest because i didn't have any interest in you chorus i can't just play along as if everything is fine i'm leaving this weathered game of tug of war the push and pull is tiring when the edge is right behind me because i know you wouldn't pull me up if i fell i thought it was me the entire time causing a tear in the fabric at least you told me so and i believed every word because surely everyone else knew something and i didn't get invited thinking no one wanted me there anyway chorus if this is leading, i don't want any part of it because you're so telling in that you're not even listening if i'm supposed to follow, i won't because i can't run where you're directing me and expect everything to get better as i'm not the only one suffocating under your weight

you haven’t seen me in months though you still yearn to hear my voice but when we do all you talk about are these tides but i didn't choose to float out to sea this time is this everything you wanted? or was this never enough? i never understood what you wanted but i assure you this is what you need as you seem to need this more than me like sinking ships in calm waters still submerged, trying to reach the surface but a sea of misunderstanding separates us and i’m not sure you want to swim to the other side am i everything you wanted? or was i never enough? i never understood what you wanted from me but i’ll assure you in all the ways you need as you seem to need me more than me i'm just floating wherever i ebb and flow we'll never pass each other in this current anyway and if we do, it'll just be to keep you treading water

the clock strikes midnight the year changes people resolve to be better at be better with be better for i just want to be less worse than before i’m in the throes of remembering every inherently woeful memory all the while trying to forget myself because no matter how much i change i’ll always see myself as the same worthless self of yesteryear how can a new year signify growth when i’ve become so acquainted with rotting away

there’s something about feeling the first rain it’s not as scary as it seems part of the sky falling towards you then gently settling down but you become the water in the gutter a collection of discarded life you see the clouds cry knowing the sadness is just your existence and how do you cope with the pressures of being worthwhile natural disasters terrifying you less than your self you can’t control what happens any more than you can the weather so look up, you’re the worst to come and that’s not so bad after all

circling waves you were swelling in my dreams but i couldn’t place where i’d seen you before i was hoping for a glimpse of a memory or a past where we intertwined but i was left empty tumbling in the white wash missing my breath knowing in the deep somewhere you were a part of me

i now understand how the wildflowers felt perched atop the mountainside knowing their time was ephemeral that the sun only shone for so long and to bask in it was a gift as for most of the year the land was barren hardly able to sustain life for those who walked upon the soil knew that it was hard to grow in the harsh conditions and the hillsides held more stories in their few months of bloom than i had in my entire lifetime because i too was fleeting a passerby moving through a season unsure of how i would emerge from this

the cars are louder here. i can hear a chair squeaking, their legs shaking. this coffee is too hot, although made properly. this place feels trendy, apt for this city. i got lost wandering a bookshop, both on my way there and inside. i would never live here. maybe next time m. will show me his view of the city. i feel like i haven’t done too much here, but i don’t feel it was time wasted. i just feel bad that m. knows we might’ve been on a mountain peak this morning. life happens, we adjust. i hope he can.

there’s cheering and yelling. i’m underdressed for the occasion. or maybe i’m overdressed, depending on how you look at it. my colours are subdued. i’m not running around with a flag as a cape. someone tried to hand me a condom. i politely refused. what am i supposed to do with that? make a balloon animal? there is quite a lack of representation. but the overstimulation doesn’t have me lasting too long to feel more about it. i put my headphones in and walk back the way i came. however, i did finish most of a roll of film.