diaries i

I don't know how, but I am taller. It must be something in the water

– Phoebe Bridgers, Garden Song

samuel beckett did not write in his mother tongue because he sought to distance himself from the concrete but i am just a coward trying to mask her talent in other parts of the world

i've been running for so long now i don't know if i'm trying to find myself or just running away from who i am (but what who where the fuck am i?) i thought i would have at least halfway figured it out at 21. who knows though, it's always fun to chase shadows on the u6 or the Giralda and getting bits of the life i wish i could stop staring at from the sidelines

yet now the only thing i know that i didn't know at 17 is that we both share english as a second tongue and how fascinating it is to translate thoughts and emotions and how scary it is to move and leave behind versions of ourselves that we don't even know if we'll ever see again

i wanted to be a poet have a dog and I wanted to have a house on the top of the mountain when i grew up; now i've learned that you want a house on the beach; i've learned that you want a house where I left my home and myself behind and you do want children (even if we are both still kids! even if our childhoods are incomplete! what a scary world) (what a wrecked one too) (but it'd have been lonesome if you hadn't been there) (oh how i love the brief moments of human connection)