the sun

Summer.

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I hate Summer.

I hate it with every fiber of my being. For all the reasons everyone loves summer, it’s all the reasons I despise it. I hate the heat. I hate the sun, I hate it’s warmth that embraces me in it’s brightest hug. I hate the over exposure of the sun that lasts on my skin. Turning every inch of my skin different colors that burn to the touch.

I hate it.

This over exposure of skin that showcases all my imperfections. The sun doesn’t allow me to cover up my insecurities and flaws. Instead my skin is out for everyone to see and judge. I can’t stand that feeling. This feeling that with every bright ray of sunlight, I have to hide an inch of myself. I want to cover every inch of myself in layers, hide every inch of my insecurities, but I can’t. Instead I hide behind closed doors until the heat of the afternoon rays, turn into moonlit skies and breezy nights.

I want to hide every inch of myself until I am ready to appear. Hide from the masses until I am perfectly okay with myself. I hate that you can’t hide from warmth. You can’t hide from the sun that follows you like a shadow every step you take. Every freckle burns on my skin from these memories of the past I just want to forget. Closing the books on summer looks and yearn for the layers and falling leaves of fall. Let me have one more day of Spring. One more day of overcast skies and foggy mornings. One more day of layers that hide my skin from the sun. One more day to hide these scars from the world, another day of long sleeves that keep all my wounds secret.

I am the worst person to myself when the sun comes out. All I want to do is disappear until the sun goes down. Do we ever really forgive ourselves for the things we say as the sun illuminates our face? We don’t. I can’t help but become the monster everyone says I am. Its the monsters in ourselves that we are often afraid of. What’s one more?

Summer comes. Summer goes. I can’t wait for the heat to leave this town and leave this lingering feeling it leaves upon my skin. In the shade, behind a veil of layers I will stay. Watching the leaves dry and fall from the trees until there is nothing left to shed.

6/7/2006

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The Oregon Trail.

When you embark on a journey, you always set out to find yourself. In your wonderland expectations of personality and living. You run to the highest mountains and sink in the deepest seas. Crave the adventure of new experiences and wish for completely new beginnings. When I packed my bags, I wished it was for forever. I wished that I could be a lost soul and roam the coast until I found myself again. That I could run away to the mountains and be lost amongst the greenery settings. All the years I hid behind the shadows, I never realized how much I missed the sun.

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There is a picturesque magic of the western coast. Something people seldom see. Sometimes even we that reside on the west coast, become so jaded by our own thoughts that we forget how beautiful we have it. If I could photograph every line of the journey, I would. Even photographs wouldn’t do it justice. The magic of the greens from the trees, the beauty of the waters so clear, and how the air just fills your lungs with this joyous pure emotion. If this was forever, I would take it. Take every last bite of this green earth and return to the trails of Oregon. I am living in a dream and only reality could bring me down to earth.

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I spent a lifetime hiding in the shadows of my misery, missing opportunities of the sun. The roads that lead to nowhere seem to guide you home. Most days, I don’t even know where home is. Home is a combination of here to there and a little bit of everywhere. Passenger seats and confessing my deepest hopes to the dashboard of road companions. Where do we go from here? To the deep blue seas and the frigid waters of the lakes hidden in the trees. To the people that make you feel alive and the strangers that hit you with the reality of coming home. I am never ready to go home. Never ready to even entertain the idea of returning back to reality. All I could ever want is to hide amongst the trees and lose myself in the picturesque scenery.

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The greener the city, the prettier the sunset. Seeing stars for the first time with clear eyes, that have been lost amongst the concrete buildings. At any minute this would be over and I will run back home. Home seems like a distant memory and some days, I am afraid to go home. Afraid of conforming to everyone else’s standards. Afraid of being stuck under the same four walls of my insecurities. The journey is almost over and through the smiling and the laughter, I feel home. Something I haven’t felt in the years of journeys of my youth. Something that was always lost in the translation. It doesn’t matter how far I go in my lifetime, I am always going to go home. Even if most days, home is just a distant memory.

One day I’ll return to the cities too beautiful to explain with words. One day I will find a way to leave home and find out where I really belong. Until that moment I regroup and return to my same four walls, to plan my next escape. All life is just another chance to escape, and one day I won’t come home. I’ll find my way back to you, I’ll find where I belong.

One day.

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Under the big bright yellow sun.

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Spring is always the oddest of seasons. This in between season of warmth and cold air, that’s wrapped up with the rays of the sun. It always made it seem that our skin called out to the sun to shine with us so warmly. Taking away the harsh reminders of the winter months. Oh, how we flock to the sun with it’s magnificently golden rays turning every thing it touches into reds, yellows, and bright oranges. The way the wind dances through your skin and on to every tree branch. Watching the blossoms from the trees, flood the streets with rains of petals through the wind. The wind screeching like thunder from the rain. I think about that moment. How no matter how dark I dyed my hair it always radiated red undertones in the sun. How on that rooftop I spent drinking in the sun mesmerized by colors and fragrant reminders of moments trapped in the past. Out of the scrapbook of memories I always think about that moment.

Can you see it? Can you remember an instant where a season transported emotions in a memory?

How the winds changed course and how big and bright the sun was in the afternoon. I could have spent an eternity on that rooftop. Over looking the streets and watching people walking to god knows where. I loved the sun at that moment. I loved how cold the wind felt and how the warmth of the drinks changed my mood and thoughts. In that moment I felt every bit of spring. I felt the sun wrap me up in it’s afternoon rays of sunshine glory. I wish I still had those photographs. Photographs of springs spent careless in the sun and believing at that moment, everything was happening for me. Even the photograph wouldn’t show how much I loved that moment. How much I loved that rooftop and looking back how much I loved that fucking city.

Everything.

Under the big bright yellow sun.