Crayola.

I’m no artist, but I have always loved colors. Sometimes words aren’t enough (I have spend too many of my seconds flipping through thesauruses searching for the right words, always coming up empty-handed), but colors are infinite. Not the kind that come in a 64-pack of crayons. Not even all the paint in all the art stores in the world. 

Words fail me, but the deep blue of the middle of the ocean is different from the navy sky of a summer thunderstorm. The red crimson of blood is almost (almost, but not quite) the vermilion of the rose whose thorns caused the blood to flow. Neither is quite the same as the tentative red of the lips that kissed it better.

My skin is not the same brown as coffee (no matter how much of it I drink). Eyes were never hazel (that’s far too cliched) – they have always been melted sunlight (even that isn’t quite right; words have failed me once again). 

I heard once that we have no way of knowing if the blue you see is the same blue I see. Maybe that’s why people keep saying “forever” but mean such different things. Forever is an absolute, you see. Kind of like how white is an absolute combination of all colors of light (I learned that in physics class, so long ago now). That didn’t make sense to me back then; the white of eggshells and teeth and paper and old people’s hair are all so different. 

Even black isn’t always the same (you’d think it would be), not even just one kind of black isn’t always the same. The black skies of midnight are so bright in this city, a thousand lights outshining the stars. It’s black out, I say, but it isn’t really. Really, black is my heart. Really, it’s what’s inside of my chest now that it’s missing whatever used to fill that space. 

Words are never enough. 

Sometimes when I’m by myself I look up at all the trees (there aren’t as many trees to look at here). Trees are funny because their leaves aren’t all the same green. Like the tree couldn’t quite decide which green it felt like, so it chose all of them. 

I’m the same way. I can never decide. I can never decide where I want to go, so I’ll just have to go everywhere. Or nowhere. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I never will. For now, I am ROYGBIV. I am azure, cerulean, lavender, magenta, salmon, tangerine, dandelion, mint, mocha, sapphire, ruby. I am gray, gray, gray, gray, gray.

Astronomy Lessons

i. 

The lights are too bright in this city

I can hardly see the sky

 

ii.

Mistake flashing lights for lightning bolts

Confuse aeroplanes for the North star 

(Sailors used the sky to navigate)

Try to follow the stars home

Walk until my feet are bloodied and bruised

Find out that these stars never stop moving

 

iii. 

I cannot see the stars anymore

But if I squint hard enough

The broken glass on the pavement

Forms a constellation

 

iv. 

Every now and then

I miss the cool embrace of darkness

But the city lights are

Far more beautiful

Anyway

Tonight, Today, and Tomorrow.

We all knew what was coming. If the future were a hurricane, well, then we were right there in the eye of the storm.

It wasn’t something we could push away. It wasn’t something we could procrastinate or hide from. Frankly, we wouldn’t want to. Each of us were looking forward to better and brighter days, maybe for different reasons, but dreams nonetheless.

And if the cost of better and brighter days was to leave days like these behind, it would be a hard bargain. But we were willing to pay that price. We had already sold our souls to what comes next. All that was left was to wait.

Tomorrow wouldn’t wait for us. It was coming. And soon.

But for now, for this moment, we had tonight. It might be the very last thing we ever have, but it was there. Not a single one of us wanted to taint the sweet taste of nostalgia with the uncertainty of what was to come.

We will always have tonight.

I’m still figuring things out.

I believe in this. I believe in cartwheels in the park and mint green nail polish. I believe in the faint blue glow of laptop screens and the hot summer sun beating down on your face as the ocean caresses your skin like a lover. I believe in books. I believe in fantastical and impossible and wonderful things. I believe in beauty and truth, and I believe that there is truth in beauty and beauty in truth. I believe in the scent of coffee and cinnamon candles. I believe that people never change, but they can grow. I believe in sunlight; I believe even more in starlight. I believe that fairytales are fiction, but that doesn’t mean they’re untrue. I believe in first loves and true loves and soulmates and heartbreak. I believe in relativity and rainbows. I believe in humanity (less than I’d like to, but still a lot). I believe that putting words on paper is like hearing a painting or tasting a song. I believe that sometimes you just need to turn the volume up. I believe in bodies writhing on the dance floor and the silence that the early morning brings them. I believe in doing unto others what you would have others do unto you. I believe in souls and reincarnation. I believe in roses and tulips and carnations. I believe that ghosts are just an echoes calling out into the void. I believe that we are all shouting into oblivion, waiting for an answer. I believe in questions, but not always in answers. I believe in photographs and memories. I believe in book stores and libraries. I believe in Christmas lights and traffic jams. I believe in babies’ laughter. I believe that we carve our own futures out of marble every single day, and there is no better work of art than a life well lived. I believe all lives are well lived. I believe in perseverance and morals and creativity. I believe in life. I believe in dying. I believe that the earth is round and I believe that  karma keeps going around and around. I believe in talking things through and letting emotions run wild. I believe in the universe. I believe in me. I believe in you.