high tech low life

if I believe in manifestation but I do believe in myself — my only regret is not trusting my gut sooner.

since I've started to once more I have been constantly vindicated and validated, and life has been so kind to me again. as if everything is back into place.

what fate, to realize this was the very same route I would take to skip class and listen to this album, this song, on repeat

I remembered driving through these woods while I cried after nights and nights of no sleep, wondering if I could ever be loved normally, fully; coming to terms with the idea that I would not ever lead the life I had wanted for myself

this route, this song, that took me through dreams of escaping to the upper peninsula, into an attempt, into a hospitalization

hearing it now for the first time in ages after days full of making so many plans, of having a certain future full of all the things I could have never imagined having, of feeling loved so effortlessly, of feeling so accepted

how could I not cry at the change, the irony, everything that has happened to bring me to this point where I can fully say that I'm glad I didn't drive into the pitch black of the lake while I drove by it, as I had considered so often before

you cry because you get a glimpse of your future and suddenly everything you never would have imagined is there, and it feels certain, and it feels safe

for years it was because I was too unstable, always looking at the exit, one foot in the grave

it would have been selfish to consider it

by the time I felt steady on my feet I was so jaded and so stuck in my ways, fixated on my independence and burning down anything in the way of it

now I crave nothing but softness, but vulnerability, but warmth

I'm still learning to trust these as they come to me and learning what form this version of myself is going to take

but everything is clear and bright

miles away, he calls me, tipsy with his friends

and with the crowd behind him, he says it so clearly, so loudly

it is warm and it is easy

there had been enough time, to ask him to say it again, again and again until I could sear how it sounded perfectly into my brain

but he says it a hundred different ways regardless, maybe without meaning to, often without a word