#andoverwrites

if i look closely enough i can see more than the specks of dust we call stars i can make out colours and the profound sights my eyes are only just adjusting to they've been out of focus for so long blurred and teary only inclined to look inward at the tangled mess i've called home my head is heavy wondering when my veins will cave in as if my arteries are constellations tied together with string i've spent so long unravelling i don't know how to be whole but maybe these new sights will show me that i am pieced together just enough

there is dawn waiting the nights might seem long but they always brighten the light blooms over the horizon you are not your shadows you do not exist only in the dusk and the darkness is not defining you there is so much more you are intricate you hold a world of possibilities it won't always slip through your fingers like sand and you won't sink you are not standing on quicksand and everyone around you is not as out of reach as you may think your broken parts make you whole and your fractured pieces can mend and you can heal the growing of trees continues and there is life in your forests oxygen filling your lungs there may be disparity and discontent but it is paired with community and comfort there is love surrounding you and you are worthy deserving of so much of joy of opportunity of authenticity you are everything not in need of permission no questions asked as you are

hold on, the sails you’ve set are picking up speed the shore is returning the ground beneath your feet is not some distant memory you’re not hovering above open your eyes to your beautiful working insides moving and full hopeful to grow sun sets only to rise this is your horizon your beginning of time you have climbed from the bottom the depth won’t pull you under

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.