memories

Importantly, 1989 is for all of us feeling youthful and holding onto that feeling of what it’s like to share your life with friends. 

The point is that music really is amazing. Some see it (hear it?) as a tool for dancing, others for pure eargasms. I like music because I like to feel.

In retrospect, the nostalgia of my sad songs playlist will always bring me back to that space under the loft, feeling hopeless and crying in the quiet after midnight. Since then, these sad songs have also given me the strength to change the course of my well-being.

I am a ripple of all of you — we are sister echoes of a song my mother once sang. Each one is different from the other, a variation in the melody, perhaps, but still part of the same song.

Sharing this moment felt much more bittersweet, especially realizing how much we’ve grown individually and are all in different stages of our lives.

The San Fernando Valley is where I’ve grown up, made mistakes and created special memories. Being back here for the summer brings up lots of emotions for me, but they’re just a reminder of my love-hate relationship with the Valley. 

Empty classrooms / Green trees at exactly noon / Music we all heard that one time / All of the above combined / Into the perfect moment.

I went back to visit you. I only observed you from the outside, but you seemed different. The years must have separated us from each other. Even though you were no longer ours, there were still some of our emblems marked on you, some indications that you had been ours at some point in your existence.

I think about that first day. Often. Memories I call on when I feel like seeing you, when I’m willing to risk the comfort of my mind for the chance to sit in during one of our nights together again.

this is the fire that poets speak about / that romantics write about, singers sing about, artists paint about, bohemians explore / the fire, the burn that I feel for you.