Choices

But Dear Friend,
I beg of you, think of it this way:

Imagine someone burned themselves on a stove and came to you for help. They told you about the pain while you wrapped blisters in bandages and held ice to raw skin. You tell them that you understand, that you too have placed your hand somewhere you thought was safe. But before the skin could heal, they came back to you with more blisters and laughed as they said, "It was that dumb stove again." But then two times turns into 3 and 3 into 4. And every time they tell you it was that damn stove again. But you would not look at them and say, "How dare that stove be hot! How dare it do as it has always done and not cool to your touch!" Because, yes, the stove is hot. It causes pain. It might even leave a scar. But there is only one way it can burn you. Only one way it can reopen old wounds.

And that, my sweet friend, is why hope you hear me when I say there comes a time when you have to stop touching the stove.

Life's a tangled web...

You know. Life is pretty weird sometimes.

One moment your living in Los Angeles praying for the moment you turn 21 so you can stop feeling so young, and the next youre begging to be 15 again when you're best friend gets engaged on a Tuesday night 3000 miles away from you. Sometimes you cry because you weren't there to be a part of that moment. Sometimes you smile knowing all of the memories to come.
Then You're begging for your internship to be over because you can't possibly spend one more hour logging videos of teenage cheerleaders, and the next your prying yourself out the front door because you can't believe you ever got to be a part of such an incredible place. Or that those cheerleaders could be so welcoming and warm in person.

Another moment you're wondering why you ever decided to take the first internship in the first place and the next your standing front and center watching one of your favorite bands play a sold out show for free. And then you get to write about it. As your job!

And before you know it, You're wishing for home and the next second you don't know how you'll survive without the California sunshine. Or the sea salt air of Santa Monica and the whispers of Runyon Canyon.

Then you're ready to leave, but your heart already misses all that this place could be.

And I have no idea what it all looks like from here. But I know I'm feeling inspired again. I wrote a poem tonight that struck me so hard I sat on the bathroom floor until it came flooding out of me like a river that had too long been told it couldn't flow. It was brutal and raw and it came out of no where, but was the most honest piece I've written in months. It talked about pieces of me I have only peeked into. And it helped me see that sometimes you have to let yourself fall apart so you can put the pieces back together exactly how you've always wanted them to be.

So maybe one by one, I'll let the pieces fall so that the light may shine through them again, and I'll build a mosaic out of ones that shine the brightest.

I'll build it strong and I'll build it beautiful. And I'll call it "Me"

a little west coast and a bit of sunshine

do you know what its like to finally feel free? to feel like nothing can touch you but the sand of a california beach or the chill of the pacific ocean?

i can't remember the last time i felt so safe, so light, so free.

today my friends and i blared old pop songs as we drove down the interstate towards Santa Monica

I ran screaming toward the ocean

I walked miles around a mall with sandy feet

I wore sandals and a tank top in January

And my heart sang all day long

there were moments during the day i just caught myself smiling because i can't believe this is really my life.

if you went back and told 13 year old me she would be living in los angeles in 7 years she would have never believed you. but she would be so proud.

everything about this place is perfect. I feel so free it's taking everything in me to not scream from the rooftops.

i guess ill have to save that part for the top of the hollywood sign ;)