My life is messy, sacred. It is impossible to document in a linear timeline. Instead it is told through moments with the people closest to me, epiphanies, and rare times when I can spend hours filling up a notebook with bits and pieces that mean something, words layered upon pictures layered upon words that are not nonsense but my own true sort of timeline.
The non-linearity is a reflection of my life; nothing seems to happen at a specific time. The past always seems married to the present, but in an amazing way, not the kind of tear-jerking nostalgia that used to haunt me. My best friends and me standing under a bridge in the bitterest part of winter, being OK with being outside because when we’re together we feel like we’re home, feels like the 1990s. High school’s smoky bathrooms and the gym where we take refuge in a corner under a blanket of laughter and finding the universe in just a few hours of being with the people I love feel timeless. It all feels messy and it feels sacred. It makes me feel like everything I have ever asked for has come true. ♦