Freshman year of high school was filled with candy and passed notes.

Every break between class, walking to our next class we’d munch on sweet lollipops sold by the student council. All the different flavors too, and then the swapping for our desired flavors. I always felt so lucky to be considered your best friend, knowing your bright personality and your intelligence. You walked next to me, by my left side. Always looked at me as your equal. Your confidence was contagious though. You gave me that part of myself, after walking next to you for four years. You’re right, though. The four years weren’t enough for us, like you wrote in my senior yearbook. There was going to be much more. And now the four years are all there is, all there ever will be.

I only wish… I could have been a friend to you like you were to me. My fear was the only thing getting in the way. Didn’t even think it would have that much of a consequence. I can never forget what I didn’t do for you. I’m so so so sorry.. I don’t deserve anything good anymore.


I want to go on an adventure.

Run around, chase butterflies. Or chase fleeting thoughts as they rise and we give in to our ideas that come and go. Do all the little things that makes life fun to live again. Being in Italy was wonderful, and I miss Europe and traveling deeply in my heart. As soon as I save up enough, I’m heading off towards an unknown destination without a look back. This time I don’t think I’m coming back home. There is nothing here.

Shedding a second skin

Since I got back from Hawaii my skin has literally been peeling all over the place, from every spot imaginable. It’s been a couple weeks but I still find flakes of skin on my bed when I wake up. Slightly gross, I know. Literally AND metaphorically, I have new skin now.  The new skin is still showing itself out, past the old, peeling skin but I think I like this new layer of Emily. Still gotta walk a mile in this new skin, figuratively speaking (or typing.)

Too early to be this dark

The voices return, and my chest is still rising. Why are they returning? It’s too early tonight. A brief glance at the alarm clock tells me it’s only 3 a.m. Too early for them, but not on this night, I suppose. They swirl around so I shut my eyes, effectively silencing the voices that rise and fall. They don’t belong in this world, but when its dark all the darkness is where it belongs so nothing holds them back in this blackness. I briefly wonder where they go when there’s no darkness for them to freely roam through. A long time ago as a child I learned that if you stare at the darkness, the darkness will only become stronger until it consumes your insides. Look away from the darkness and their deciptions. Still, the voices rise, pawing at the covers I hide under. They don’t even make sense, how they exist in this world, they must not be real. Still, I’m not capable of understanding everything in this world and there is no question they currently exist in the darkness that surrounds us. We only have to know how to hear, see the voices that oscillate around us. Finally, I gain the courage to uncover myself, exposing myself to the unreal, and reach out for tbe lamp. With the jump of light from the single blub, the darkness disappears, along with the voices.


By now I already know titles are not my forte. It feels strange to be back in the house I grew up in, especially all that has taken place the past couple years. I can tell right away I’m not the same person. Sometimes it makes me sad but at the same time it just means there are more new things to discover. Still, I get confused, tensely balanced on the top of a fence, going back and forth between starting over and trying to return to who I was. This is one of the moments in life where once you decide something, there’s no going back. I’m staying in this life, and I’m going to make the best of it. We don’t change, only external factors change us and it is up to us whether we lay down or rise and fight. Tomorrow I’m sitting my arse down and writing a story, even if it kills me.

Dreams make their way into my head at nights and lately, they have stayed instead of fading away into the dawn as I wake up. I remember my dreams more, and they were like the way they were before everything. Colorful with a story, and characters I otherwise never see, unless it’s really true that every face we encounter in dreams are faces we’ve seen before in our awake life. I wonder where they went lately. What dreams have I missed? It’s a sign of reconnecting with oneself. There were so many dreamless nights, as I lay asleep in a limbo, unsure of anything and of myself. And now there are many dream-filled nights with dreams I actually still remember the next morning. I remember I used to get ideas for writing from my dreams, and I really have NOT written lately.  It’s time for a new dream journal, methinks. I’m starting to really miss writing stories again.