i feel like i’m waiting, always just waiting, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
i’m waiting for that time when we can just get into a car and drive and drive and dive into the ocean, our bare skin squishing the seaweed into the pebbles underfoot.
that time when the sky is always blue, so blue it’s purple, and the grass is the greenest and winter is so so far away. far away in time and geography.
i crave travel. i crave closeness and conversation. likeness and togetherness and warm feelings.
i want to create. i want to create and destroy and create again from the shattered, scattered pieces.
i live to live, i love to live, i love to love,
and yet i sit here, disenchanted, just sitting.
nothing is more suffocating than winter.