February Twenty First, Two Thousand and

Did you know that half of your non-profit donations fund me telling homeless youth what memes i’ve seen that remind me of them?

February Twentieth, Two Thousand and Eighteen.

Phone buzzes when you’re about to drift off– sleepy eyed, read the words, feel the heartache, drift off.

February Nineteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen.

I left the dimly lit strip club you were working at at about 2pm to pick you up a ham and cheddar subway sandwich, the paper bag kept my hands warm, and I walked down the numbered streets crossing North East Sandy towards a mountain full of snow.

February Eighteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen.

Breaking fresh snow with our boots and catching them on our tongues, a band in the basement with a stand-up bass, escape a little early and split a bowl on my bed– smoke reaches her fingers out the window and makes her way into the snow.

February Seventeenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen.

I talk a lot of shit about the nuclear family, but my aunt and uncle and their kids, playing legos on a gloomy day, eating quesadillas, and finding a flow and rhythm in the day, they help me see good can come from it.

February Sixteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen.

Sick day– tea, Boogie Nights, playful text exchanges and blankets.

February Fifteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen

I went to the Beaverton school district admin office today for training, nestled between industrial roads, and nothing was within walking distance for my lunch break– or so I thought, until I left the grey and unassuming strip mall and entered into an paradise of Indain food, grabbed a to go box, and ate paleek paneer while the very kind woman training us droned on about three column notes.

February Fourteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen

I worked and pushed through the tired, texted some people who are important to me, got home and watched a movie with my housemates.

February Thirteenth, Two Thousand and Eighteen

I was so anxious, but able to channel it down into the earth, I got dinner with some old friends in a moody-lit pub, I ran into a co-worker and shot the shit about a youth who recently described my future death and eternal torment to me in vivid detail.

February Twelfth, Two Thousand and Eighteen

It’s been one week– Ruth and I ate pizza in the frigid winter sun, a girl from work came and made awkward conversation with us, I’m a shaken, but finding my balance.