Even the tiniest of flowers can have the toughest roots.
As I accept the flowers, I release my grip on the balloons, and they bounce gently against the ceiling the way they did before—hovering, annoyed, frustrated, contained by the ceiling and disappointed by the limits of life.
I guess all the time I spend on social media has made me believe that love exists above the surface, that it’s supposed to be light all of the time.
I guess love distorts our perception of reality, and it’s even harder to recognize the truth when it’s buried underneath layers of what we imagine relationships should be like.
Sometimes you have to fight for the past and sometimes you have to let go.
Despite all of the social advances in women’s rights and the push for gender equality in the workplace, it seems like modern men still want a woman that they can take care of at home.
Of course her dumb Lab’s going to do whatever it takes to retrieve the ball. What he craves more than freedom is companionship.
Maybe the truth doesn’t exist if you look the other way.
That’s what mountains do, they taunt you, lure you to the freedom of the wilderness, and it is fucking exhilarating.
Her eyes remind me of the Pacific: Raging. Fearless. Restless.
Who am I fooling? Bad dreams never end. We just pretend they aren’t there.
Somehow I find the energy to continue the run. Part of the high that comes after finishing a long run is overcoming the wall, that point when your body crashes but your mind keeps moving you forward.
Sometimes you just gotta accept that hope is gone.
The west coast is a mecca for wild hearts, wild minds, wild spirits and I’m a WMD—I’ve got so much energy I’m about to explode.
The forest is blanketed by the greenest ferns and moss and bonsai-like trees, a wild majesty that beckons hobbits and pixies and elves and dreamers.