1/30: If June nights could talk they’d probably say they created hope. Even through the pouring rain and silver lightning, the air is still warm.
2/30: Today my friend called you a mess and I almost said you weren’t. A year and nearly 3000 miles later, and I am still trying to defend you.
3/30: new beginnings are so full of hope; I love it.
4/30: summer’s been very kind to me. Two parts flowers and two parts laughter.
5/30: There’s a birthmark on my hip bone in the shape of a hook. Wonder if it explains why I get so attached and can never let go gracefully.
6/30: why does it feel like all the advice I give is actually meant for myself?
7/30: my friends have loved me better than my lovers and I don’t think I ever thanked them for that.
8/30: you say ambition like it is a dirty word. But I want to build an empire and have a crown to call my own. So you say there’s a glass ceiling to break. So, I brought my hammer.
9/30: Tonight the people living above us hated each other so loudly, it bled through the foundation and fell right into our house. I turned the music up to a hundred and tried to shut them out. When I took off my headphones an hour later, the couple living a floor below us were laughing so hard, I thought they probably had craters in their cheeks. Love shouldn’t look like a double edged sword. And the second it does, it isn’t love anymore.
10/30: Maybe it’s just easier to hide the pain than explaining why you’re hurting.
11/30: I think the best way to avoid saying something you regret when you’re mad, is to picture the other person as a puppy.
12/30: did your mother ask you what happened? Did you say we were too stubborn, too young, too naive? Did you say we didn’t know any better? Did you say we did but couldn’t help ourselves anyway?
13/30: I am tired of hearing stories of women being cracked open and having their souls snatched in dim alleyways. My heart is so exhausted from feeling all their pain.
14/30: our song played in the mall today and it felt like some kind of sick joke. It felt like every one there was mocking me. I almost ran into the bathrooms and retched out all the reasons we could’ve worked.
15/30: there is something so awfully tragic about the movement of the swing set after you walk away. The rise and fall. Because even though you’re not there anymore, it’s still moving. Still swinging, until it eventually realises no one is coming back and stops itself.
16/30: Loving you was like watching the sun set. It’s all golden and warm and beautiful at first. But suddenly, the sun’s gone and the cold’s set in and you’re left there in the dark wondering if Icarus weeps because he wishes he never loved the sun, or because even after all that ache, he still misses it.
17/30: so you’re sitting on a rooftop and your friends are talking about the latest ongoing tragedy and all you can think about is, somewhere something wonderful must be happening. It must. It is only fair.
18/30: I don’t really know why I’m praying. Or who I’m praying to; anyone who’s listening, really.
19/30: In a dream I’m running through the hallways of my childhood home. I fall on my knees and instead of blood, out fall rose petals.
20/30: I swear when people ask me what I write, I say, I don’t know. I say, mostly, love. Mostly, the stars. Mostly, I think, the words I never said.
21/30: so today was the summer solstice. Which means we can’t swallow Sun-rays on lazy Sundays anymore.
22/30: I think what scares me is that I respect my parents more than I like them. And I don’t want my children to ever think that.
23/30: you see my grandmother has trembling hands and a timid smile. But don’t be mistaken. When people said she didn’t have a choice, she created her own. When everyone said yes, she said no. Even now, I see the fire burning in her eyes. The one every girl turned lioness has.
24/30: I am so emotional. But it’s not always a weakness. Somedays I wear my tear stains as war paint and I am not ashamed. As if saying, look at me; look at what you’ve done and try not to flinch.
25/30: there’s something written on the bathroom wall in my school that will always haunt me- “my problem is that I want to be femme fatale and angelic at the same time.”
26/30: when I was little, I used to think that the moon was haunting me. Even now, I think that maybe the moon has always been watching over me. Watching out for me.
27/30: People say the world is kind to all women, but I know some who have cut their hair just so they wouldn’t have to feel someone drag them by their scalps ever again.
28/30: I am so much more poetic on the internet. I speak in broken sentences and half sounds. My mouth is all shattered tank and my words are all oil spills.
29/30: you learn to love yourself the same way you learn to dance. A little hesitant at first, a little shaky in the beginning; but eventually, without skipping a beat.
30/30: Right now I’m not sure if I want to fall asleep to the hum of the television or to the hum of his voice.
[part 6/12 of the 2016 series ]