I don't know.

Post-Europe Depression is real.

I long for the canals of Amsterdam.
Walking the narrow streets as the bikes pass by, breathing in the crisp air as the wind graces my face. Hands in my pockets, street lights across buildings, bells tolling the hour.

I long for the streets of Paris.
Popping into museums to visit old friends on the walls, vendors enticing their goods out of green boxes, the Seine guiding me along my way, laying in a field in front of the Eiffel Tower.

I long for the rain of London.
Hopping on subways full of other travelers, tile lined station walls and stairs leading up to different pockets of life. Cafes and the arts welcoming you anywhere your head turns.

The last time I was in rain, it was in Europe. It covered me, soaking into my pours, holding me like a loved one.
It rained today.
Touching my skin, taking the place where the breeze used to blow and the drops were before.

Western rain doesn't feel the same.

Things lately.

I was flipping through the journals from the last year and a half since I moved home last night.
I'm going out of the country for 13 days and I don't want my family to read them if they pack up parts of my room while I'm gone, so a friend I trust offered to hold onto them for me.

There are five journals, not including my current one.
I didn't intend to read them, but got caught on a few parts when checking for the dates to make sure I didn't miss a journal. (Which I had. So good thing I checked.)

Things were so hard. I was so sad.
And things can still be difficult and I can still be sad, but generally life is so much better now.
I don't know if that's just because I'm leaving the country Friday and my house is almost done and all these other good things are happening, or if it's because life is actually better.
But since Oz things have been notably better. Almost as though the show was the actual catalyst. It began very difficultly, but by the end my heart was so full and happy.

Sucky things still happen.

• my friend died
• my cat died
• ballet has been rough
• work is difficult

But the way I feel during and after the sucky things has changed.
I'm not as hopeless.
The sadness doesn't feel as sad.
I have these people that call me their friend and care about me.
These people supporting me in what I do.
These people laughing with me, yet crying with me.
These people sharing the same quirks I thought I should be embarrassed over.
But I don't have to be. Because I'm not the only one.
I have these people that help me become a better version of myself.

So life is weird.
I don't know what's next, I don't know what's ahead. It feels like something is waiting for me, but I couldn't tell you what it is.
Whatever it may be, it has to be good.

Here we go again.

Initial writings after tragedy.
More to come, I'm sure.

My Eyes Are Green and Red ©

It wasn't supposed to be you. 
Full of life and promise,
That's who you're supposed to be. 
That's changed.

The drone of cheers and celebration ring in my ears 
But all I think about is you. 
You're gone now. 
And I'm at a loss for words.

It wasn't supposed to be you.

This holiday can never be the same. 
I'm sure in time I'll celebrate again 
But not without remembering 
This day. 
This moment. 
The pain I'm trying to drown until I'm left alone to grieve.

Words can never be a worthy enough tribute 
To who you are--were--and what you mean to me.

I miss you.

©

Grief hit me like a wave 
Swelling up on the typically calm shore.
But I don't know if I can surf today.
Regret sinks in the pit of my stomach 
Your voice echoing in my ears 
Deep breaths, just hold it together 
My lips are numb, this can't be real.

But it is.
And you're gone.

Fireworks lose their luster,
Dull against the dark of night. 
I hear the cheers, but I don't feel them. 
How can I when I just lost a piece of my heart?

I'm too young to have a funeral dress that has seen so much use.

Before you go ©

The smell of the city is beginning to wear off
Reality is setting into the fibers of my clothes
The monsters are waiting for me
Behind doors I closed as I left.
This skin I'm in is still the same.
I see the world through eyes that
Change color when I cry.
The very eyes that have seen everything I know.
Every terror and triumph
Logged in my same brain,
Filed and put away.
These fingertips have touched worlds both here and there.
Same heart, beating words I can never say.
But now my eyes stay brown.
I don't cry anymore.

Most of my posts have been on my ballet blog lately.
Or my journal.

Life is good.
Although difficult at times.

I'm finally finding where I belong
And have people who care about me.

Change is in the air
I can't see it, but I feel it.

You should know better.

There was a fly that got into the office today.
I big, fat fly that buzzed from room to room for hours.
Eventually, the fly hit the glass window and bounced off landing on its back on the floor. It struggled to flip itself back over as I watched, finally accepting it's seeming demise. I got up to see if I could flip it over, or somehow get it back outside when it got up a second wind and managed to get off its back and take off again, flying from room to room. I opened the door to try and lure it outside as it flew back my way only to be distracted by the smell and sound of rain.
Rain.
With bright, sunny, blue skies.
The sound of big drops colliding with everything around it.

I forgot the fly, walked outside, and just stood there.
Hands open, big cheesy grin on my face.
You'd think I was 6-years-old.
My co worker came out to leave for the post office and said, "Come back inside, people are gonna think you're crazy." to which I responded, "I'm already crazy." and proceeded to lavish the rain.

Rain.
Falling gently into the bulbs of the purple flowers blooming in the grass.
I squat down to watch it like I'd never seen it before in my life.
It was fascinating; beautiful, even.

So I found a nearly-dry patch of ground and sat down, taking in everything around me.
The water from the drain forming a make-shift creek as it wove its way through the parking lot.
The drops landing on the pavement, just to dry up shortly after. But only until there were many of them, then they all formed together to make the pavement a different shade of gray.
Feeling it on my skin like an old friend.

What is it about adults that we miss simple things like this?
We accept it in children, but chastise it in ourselves, why, because we should know better?
I would think that the children know better than us when it comes to things like this.
The world is so much more beautiful if we look at it for what it is and not through the scope of what it can do to make our lives easier or more of how we imagine things to be.

If we didn't have rain, we wouldn't have food, we wouldn't have beautiful green grass or flowers, we wouldn't have the means for rainbows to be formed.
We wouldn't have much of anything without rain.
If all we have is sunshine-y "perfect" days, we would never be able to appreciate them.

Appreciate the rain.