Last Sunday I ran towards the sea and sought solace there; where water and sky meet in a quiet tumble of sounds- the wind in my hair, the waves in my ear- where supposedly things start to melt away.. less into the sticky mess of life, more into air- salty, ocean air. When I sat by the water I spread myself thin and my thoughts plummeted (?) in twenty different directions (what does it mean to be entirely present in this moment / why is the wind practically non existent / I should probably come back tomorrow / can the sea really save me) and somehow spiraled back down to the one same thought 

why do I feel the need to get away 

When I was walking home, i ran towards the thought of documenting as a means of healing. I thought of writing myself dry, losing myself completely in the light that is found by diving deep into who I am. And I thought of the things I would write, the things I could photograph, the person I could be again. Blossoming, happy, whole. 

/ 

Close to two and a half years and here I stand, my heart in my hands, still fighting to understand and still searching for the answers to questions that plague my every waking thought (re: don't fall in love with me). I am still that same girl. Older now, wiser now (maybe too 'wise') and more emotionless now.

Tonight buddy and I found ourselves sprawled across a random lawn we found in gardens by the bay. And as carefree as we were- asian city kids raised by western books and poetry- we kicked off our shoes, laid on our backs and talked. We talked about love. There was a bland, sandy aftertaste in my mouth. I don't think I know what I am saying any longer. All I know is numb, all I know is sand, all I know is salty, ocean air. 

I think 

all my life I've lived in this.. Nomadic, haphazard manner: in writing, in speaking, in loving. finding homes in these unsuspecting places and in things, in people. And subsequently moving on when the time has come to go. I think for now it's the best way I know to hold myself together. That in loving- in this sporadic, random manner- my heart will eventually find a date and a time to rest, a home to blossom and grow. 

From now till then:

be still, wandering heart. your time has yet to come.