“A year ago, even six months ago, it would have been, but not now.” by Julia on Amanda’s tub


Wednesday July 19, 2017
11:31pm
5 minutes
Why I Write
George Orwell


I told a bunch of people I didn’t know that if someone asked me what the best thing about life is, I’d say getting older. I mean it. What else is there in this existence aside from growth and love and mistakes and love?
I know a lot of people agreed with me. If that same someone asked me a year ago I would not have said this. I wouldn’t have said a lot of things. In the time between figuring some shit out and sitting where I’m sitting, I have out grown so many beliefs. So many stories. So many past versions of myself. If someone asked me even six months ago I would say, I’m sorry, but I do not recognize my own reflection. I wouldn’t have been able to point out what’s true over what’s not.

I keep thanking my bones for speaking up. I keep asking if anyone who lives in my skin is tired or hungry. I keep listening to the answer when it changes and changes.

“see you again wherever and whenever” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday July 18, 2017
10:23pm
5 minutes
From a text

Dr. Morrow says that when an attack’s coming on I should think about my “happy place.” I don’t know what the fuck that means, but what I do think about is the blue tiles in Mila’s bathroom, from when we were little and we were allowed to take baths together. I guess that means that’s my happy place? I dunno. Before long I’m shaking, and sweating, and losing my shit totally losing my shit. I try to speak, to yell, or something so that people might know that I might, like, die. I try to say, “See you again whenever and wherever, assholes…” but I can’t get the words out, like, they get all stuck and jumbled.

“I will complete them upon my return” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday July 17, 2017
11:17pm
5 minutes
From an email

I’m not sure how to tell you this
I’m not sure about much actually
I’m questioning all of my choices
my vices
my fears
so big so big
Oh
I’m not sure how to tell you this
When I get back I’m gonna head out
on my own for a while
Gotta find the rhythm of the grind again
Gotta find the direction of the sun again
I’m not sure how to tell you
that when I swam in those big waves
I saw
G-O-D
and it wasn’t in the shape of a
face or a torso
it was in the shapelessness of a
blue blue white aquamarine
movement

“see you again wherever and whenever” by Julia in her childhood room


Tuesday July 18, 2017
11:06pm
5 minutes
from a text

It doesn’t matter when the next time we hug is, the next time we laugh
nobody is counting
nobody cares
Sometimes we don’t plan the next time we hug or cry
It doesn’t matter when the next time is

After the baseball game he gave me his number and told me to call him any day but Wednesday. I asked why and he said, does it matter if you reach me on a Sunday or not? If the day we talk again is next week or next year?