woke and weird (and also in love)

i watch as large forms pass over me, long boards with limbs gliding just above the surface. humanoid forms i once recognized, but have since turned alien. as i fall closer to the soft sand below me, i let out a laugh, watching the Sun’s rays dance around me. i think “that’s a God i could believe in,” yet i don’t. when i’m gently placed on the ocean’s shelf, i’m unsure of where i’m going, but i’m not afraid. for the first time, i’m not afraid. and i think no matter what is next, i can hold on to the delicate moments, like lingering salt on your lips from the sea, or sunlight peaking through tree leaves. i can carry these with me through fire or emptiness, and it will finally be enough. yes, in the next one, this life can finally be enough.

sometimes i think of all the things i will lose. my high school friends, my childhood room. my first car, favorite earrings, sunglasses, and virginity. i think of all the things i’ve already lost. sometimes it overwhelms me, thinking about everything i love but will have to die without. but my soul shakes me loose, every fiber of my being lights up to remind me that i will always have my siblings. in death, but more importantly in life, i am eternally an older sister. when counting the things i’ve lost, i don’t list the items my little sister has stolen or the secrets i tell my baby brother on the drive home. sometimes i hate myself for the times i’ve met them with anger, but my soul shakes me loose once again, reminding me how easy it is to forgive your siblings. how i couldn’t hold a grudge against them if god asked.

I break old testament and traffic law, I give unhoused people cash, And I don’t tell them how to spend it. I disappoint my father by getting tattoos, And his pride is restored by the next weekend when I do what I do best. I put on my face, I step onto the floor, I do my dance And win my awards. At seventeen and a half I think about my older sister a lot more than I did as a kid. I cherry pick her mistakes, Some to avoid, Some to remake. I go through the motions, I cry myself to sleep, Impress my professors, And call home to make sure I’m still the favorite daughter. I fall in and out of bars, I stay in love with her, Everything I do makes me anxious, It’s how I maintain my edge. I gave up pretending, I shamelessly beg my younger friends and older sister to come visit. “I’ll sleep on the floor, You can have my bed.” When I show them around a lump forms in my throat, I swallow it down because I’m good now, I swear I’m good now. My to-do list has become much less complicated than it used to be. Survive the day, Stay inspired. I suppose that’s what I’m trying to do now. Stay inspired. A little less than two months before move in, On month 13 of the curse, I received an empty fortune cookie And a business card for a psychic. I was brought to my knees by both of these things, Yet I went to work And I drove home. I napped in the sun And posted on instagram. I don’t know what the future holds, And I’m so tired of my magical thinking. The fortune cookie was a mistake I stole, Every car in the lot had the same card on the door.

with nothing but the mystical sensation of your body on mine.

a complete separation from the worst parts of myself and of this world.

i rush and crash the shore like my life depends on it.