july 19 11:43 PM

my heart hurts again tonight.

i cant help but feel stupid on nights like these. i feel clingy and annoying, everything he's so grateful i'm not. when i looked at the sky on my walk home i was engulfed in colours and shapes reminding me how much the world has to offer me. the first thing i thought to do was share this with him and when his phone went to voicemail without even ringing the waves were suddenly taunting. the wind as if it was just waiting to push me off the edge. i reminded myself to appreciate my own skies sometimes and to let him do the same yet somehow i had already dialled that familiar number. someone else picked up the phone and i begged the wind and the waves to welcome me. he didnt see my calls. i shouldnt have called. i shouldnt get too attached and i shouldnt let myself fall. falling only leads to crashing, a sound so familiar to the cavity in my chest as he distractedly told me he couldnt see the sky. im so selfish. im everything he hates wrapped into a package that he's convinced himself he loves. "cloud 9's never felt more like home" and ive never felt more alone. a sunset that reminded me of so many beginnings began to remind me of nothing but an end. the clouds drifted together and the stars spelled out "closed". one by one their lights burned holes and i became the ocean as salt water replaced air and i remember how to drown. i do it so well now. my thoughts are beginning to feel like quicksand, the more i struggle the more i sink and suddenly it is just me and the pit and im the only one doing any falling.

july 28, 2015, 9:18 PM

i cant see anything on the horizon tonight but maybe the future isnt always meant to be seen.

theres a boy on the bench next to me speaking of perspective and the comparable sizes of the earth and the sun. tonight i learned that no problems are ever to complex or too big, and that the sky does not belong to me. we're all learning from the stars and theres limitless possibilities lying ahead. there are people who have yet to learn to look beyond the horizon and those who look exclusively. my greatest accomplishment is not relying on the clear skies but rather learning to work with heavy storm clouds.

there is a ******* the bench next to me reading a book and i see her eyes wander and graze the watercolour palette ahead.

i can see lights in the distance now, and they are flickering and unsure and i am thankful for their honesty. distance and time are two factors that fill my mind daily and i find myself constantly running along their axes, seeing which one will collapse first. the first thing i realized tonight is that distance is always relative and the space between two places, two people, consists of a lot more than just metres. the second is that time is not just a human created concept but an excuse we fabricate for rash decisions and delayed to-do lists.

the sun set tonight like it always does and i dont think i have ever seen a more beautiful goodbye. it seems like everyone was watching the sky tonight and i watched stars appear for every heart beat. we filled the sky with light as the darkness took over.

and floating feels like an understatement now, as water levels drop instead of rise and the clouds are closer than ever. i spend every night wishing on stars that soon we will be standing on those clouds, the moon our next stop. i guess you never really anticipate the heaviness that can be presented to you so suddenly and i am floating on rain clouds back down to earth. somewhere on my journey down a familiar light stops me like an old friend and i stay, hovering above the lake i so often wished to be apart of. the darkness that surrounds me chuckles in time with the pounding in my chest, the kind of alarm that rings only at 3am. those dreams of thunderstorms have overstayed their welcome and i am the one doing the evicting this time.

but this is not the end. suspended by newly sewn strings i see a countdown forming above the glowing city, a reminder that nothing has ever stopped us before. we conquered the funeral and flowers grow from my fading graves. we've climbed hills that feel like
mountains to sit on the moon. we are still roughly 581 days away from the beginning and i have come to accept that maybe the stars were never spelling out "closed" but rather "not open yet". the grey mass that fills the air is the last curtain before the grand opening.

and that glowing city is as clear as ever and for the first time ever the end credits are rolling backwards.

youre talking about a loon thats so far ahead of us that it swims out of my view. its easy to lose sight of things when the fog is this thick. and im avoiding the hill because i cant risk seeing the blazing trail of a departing plane just yet. you try to find value in things that no one else could love and im sorry you have to find out like this but i belong under the hill, not on it.

the only flowers i can keep alive hang blankly on my wall and maybe thats why you take so many pictures of me. im not something you frame or press in a book i am not something you put on display i am not something you should water.

on the floor theres a bag thats missing 4 but everything still hurts.