if you’re going through something that is shaking you out of everything that you knew to be true. remember. who you are. and what lives in your soul. and you will start healing. ↟

if you are currently grieving, you can find the playlist that held my heart through it all here. i love you. x


i wonder if anyone asked
why didn’t you
fight for her

i wonder if
he would


going from love
to hate
in less than a month.
is enough pain.
living in my chest.
to make breathing.
feel foreign.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 
there is nothing i can
or want to 
to this pain
other than
“ah, yes. of course. thank you.
of course you’re here.
this is how i know i’ve loved.“


i still miss your arms at night.
i miss you getting jokingly angry at my messy bun being in your face while my head is rested on your chest.
i miss drinking tea watching weird reality tv.
we had this rhythm, do you remember? staying at yours for a few nights, then alone for a few.
that is what this feels like.
like a prolonged time at our own. like a longing. a waiting.


and even though you pride yourself on it
“i am not an angry person”
sinks you into sadness and empathy for them.
but it is okay
to think of you.
it is okay
to feel hurt
and to dance wildly to move it through.

compassion is a tool of magic, but it is wasted
when it drowns out the sound of your boundaries.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 
and even though you pride yourself on it
“i am not an angry person” 
might not always sound like you. 
it is okay
to let it go
it is okay 
if it feels like a layer of skin that you need to wiggle out of 
a layer keeping you small.
you do not always have to breathe out understanding.

it is okay to embody anger and tenderness
to be soft and fierce
make space.


closing our season felt like shrinking. 
it tasted foreign
like shame. embarrassment. letting people down. 
closing our season sounded like silence.
the deafening kind, the kind that you fill
with music and movies
with other people’s voices
to distract yourself from not hearing his.

moving through the closing sometimes feels like shrinking
and other times feels like trust. like a deep knowing.
it tastes like warmth
of acceptance, of gratitude, of love – of my first love
+ the warmth of the fire that will come with my second.

it sounds like stillness. sometimes the lonely kind,
but mostly the kind that nurtures.
not the kind that is there because he isn’t. not the lack, but the fullness
the time with myself, the yoga, the meditation, the slow walks.

closing our season felt like shrinking.
moving through the closing
looks like coming home
and feels like choosing. 
like walking inward. 
like finally saying yes to myself
the way i did to him. 
like the way i did to us.


i let go
of making you feel 
worth loving 
at the expense 
of loving


there was a time
when i was certain
that what lived in our heart spaces
was from the same breath.

but you. 
not to tell me.
and thinking
that is synonymous
with consideration —

i am only certain
our hearts
aren’t even from
the same planet.


there’s so much to say about the rain.
it picks up everything i thought i set down.
it lives in my heart.
it pulls me straight back to memories
and places a weight on the emotion i’m still moving through.

who knew the rain
could do so much as it fell.