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I am so lucky because this is me and him in bed every night saying those exact words.

(via sweatersandcarrides)

two weeks

until an nyc summer.

two months til a west coast road trip.

here’s to skipping a shitty Australian winter for a three month homeland pilgrimage.

This was on some TV show the other night. I had one eye on the TV and 95% of my brain swirling around my living room.

But those first few bars… It brought me straight back to two years ago.

I can’t help but break down to this song.

summer in nyc

doesn’t matter if our “sure-thing-for-two-months” apartment fell through.

i’m there. june/july. two months of heavenly living with the boy in big bad gotham city.

addiction

untreated = jails, institutions and death.

I hear that on a daily basis. But I haven’t felt that truth until now.

Sleep easy H. You are heartbreakingly missed.

the past, the empty, the forgotten

I walk the same routes on a daily basis. They are familiar because this city is home. But there are blurry memories that these familiar places are beginning to trigger. And I wish it felt like I was remembering another me.

But it’s visceral and bloody and dizzying. It’s hand-reaching-into-my-chest-and-squeezing-my-sternum-until-its-dust painful.

Because it’s all the memories of the chaos and destruction I inflicted upon those dearest to me. It’s the guilt that overwhelms me, that leaves me raw.

In those moments. On those random Tuesday afternoons. When I stop to stare at familiarity.

All I can do is let I’m sorry whisper through my head.

The only power I have

is over what I say and what I do.

This is becoming clearer with each singular passing moment.

And it is the most freeing realisation I’ve ever had.

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tan lines, bowls of coffee, blue dresses, shadows and grub&tucker.

that was summer.