do you remember

880 in the pouring rain

in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week

dreaming of Californication

i couldn't even tell you what it meant

feeling like i could be whatever i wanted

but feeling obligated to do what i was already doing

how hard is it to give up everything

and become something new

walking through the mall

to get home from school

always jeans and always too hot

i had no idea who i was or who i could be

i used to go to starbucks every morning

i used to go to the drive thru baskin robbins at the end of the day

i used to follow a routine

not that it made me feel better

but because that's what i was used to

driving down Happy Valley

in the fall,

when the leaves turn

and the road feels like a mystical forest

the way the trees perfectly arch above the street

on my way

maybe we don't really enjoy what's around us

we just get used to it

the comfort of the familiar

when you go back home

does something stir your soul?

or does it feel washed up

a place i call home

feels like i don't belong here anymore

home really isn't a place, but a feeling

you feel like home

this feels like home

i am home

when you think about the "good times"

what are you referring to?

because now~

these are the good times!

nostalgia kills

i keep going back to the past

because i heard that knowing your past helps you know who you are in the present

but every time i look back

it feels like my old self is pulling me back

she can't be here, so she tries to suck me in

but that's not what i want

that's not who i am


i am the scent in the air after the rain

i am the chaos of the city

i am the lull of the waves

i am the clouds

i am the glow of the morning sun

word vomit might be a thing

and this might be it

but hear me out

repeat after me

i'm on my way

back to myself