2017 in review (yes, it's late)

2017 was a wild year; 12 months full of growth and change and tears and laughter and loss and anxiety and so, so many "firsts". i started the year off by starting a new position in my job of 3 months & worked full time much longer than i'd originally planned. i saw the first of my childhood friends get married, got 3 new piercings, my first (& second!) tattoo, bought my first car (affectionately named "Beatrice Bullet" due to her excessive acceleration while coasting), traveled back to Ohio for a month, all while entertaining the idea of moving across the country - 1,800 miles from home. i struggle(d) with anxiety (which is something i've never really shared before, so here's to being open and vulnerable in 2018. ha), talked and prayed and schemed with my cousin about finally living in Ohio and renting a place together, and finally took the leap. 

in September, i quit my job - leaving behind so many wonderful people 😭  - and started packing, in the midst of which i turned 21. in early October, i drove across the country for the first time (even after making the drive with my mum & dad 20+ times, i'd never driven once!), left behind home and family and everything i'd known for the past 18 years of my life and started a new adventure in Ohio. leaving my family is one of the hardest things i've ever experienced, and let me just tell you: nothing prepares you for that goodbye. 

upon my arrival, i dealt with car troubles, made phone calls (eeee), got (somewhat) used to living independently, cultivated a passionate love for Aldi, flew by myself for the first time (including a 40 minute layover in Detroit to catch my next flight - which i almost missed) and realized that "visiting home" is about the most melancholy, bittersweet feeling a person can experience. 

it's been a year of realizations; of doubt, of growth, of change, but through it all, i've grown stronger and God had proven His faithfulness over and over again. i feel like i waited for 2017 - the year - for a long while, and it changed my expectations and reality more than i thought was possible. i cling to sameness; to constancy and comfort and security with a ferocity born of anxiety and fear, but this year has proven, despite my uncertainty, that change is more than a part of life - it is life - and, if given the chance, it can be a good thing.

it's all a crazy ride, friends, but sometimes you just gotta go for the wild adventure; take the leap; make the move. buy the plane ticket. pack a bag and just go. here's to (the remainder of) 2018 - the crazy, the hard, the lonely, the wild, the joyful, the new - and all that entails. 🎉  

p.s. here, have a conglomeration of miscellaneous photos from 2017 thrown together in an unorganized heap. cheerio. xo


breaking glass // poetry

you first saw me through a glass window
on that cold, November day --
and you fell in love at the first sight, 
or so you would later say. 

the trees were bare and desolate,
their arms against the sky,
and our reflections chased after us
as we went walking by. 

we talked about the future - 
our dreams as open books, 
laid out for all the world to see
if they would only dare to look. 

an image of us was frozen
on a screen that frosty day, 
a snapshot the only fragment 
of the "us" that was to stay. 

we traced our steps back to where we met
and stood at the exact spot 
just as lightning struck the sidewalk
with the echo of a gunshot. 

we walked a hundred miles, 
moments sweet like old champagne - 
and your lips briefly brushed mine
before we parted in the rain.  

you swore that you would write to me
before a single day could pass,
but your promises faded, as did you, 
with the sound of breaking glass. 

[breaking glass, november 5th, 2016] 


haven't been writing too much poetry lately - moving 1,800 miles across the country, job hunting, adulting and writing a novel will have that effect - but here's one i wrote over a year ago, forgot about and just rediscovered. xo


11:30 p.m.

September crept through the door unnoticed this year; or, perhaps, not unnoticed, but rather as if we were lost in the passage of time, too caught up in the hours slipping through our fingers to realize that those hours were days and those days were months - and those months had dropped us on the cusp of autumn, clinging to a season that we wanted to release, but that held too much in her worn bindings and yellowed pages for us to ever be truly ready to let go of.

reality is a cold mistress. she hides behind dreams and hopes and days so far off in the future that we speak of them as if they'll never happen; as if "somedays" automatically become "nevers" once they're released into the air; because, maybe, we've been trained to accept the harsh conception that life is something that never truly changes - because, maybe, we don't want to believe it will.

i feel this goodbye in the chest already; ripping holes into my heart... and my departure is still a month away. how do you hold onto something that will be a thousand miles away? how do you let go of something that is cemented into your chest with strands of time that nothing will (could) ever break?

everywhere i go reminds me of you; every memory i have, you're right there with me. goodbyes do not mean "see you later", because everytime you say it, something changes. no matter how much you want it to stay the same, it shifts, just a little bit, a tidal wave crashing over everything we swore was untouchable; unbreakable; unchangeable.

with every hello, we learn that life consists of greetings and farewells, and with every goodbye, we realize there's nothing we can do to change that.


(p.s. i'm moving to Ohio in exactly a month. 1,800 miles away. it's a big step. but today is my last day of work and i'm ready for a step forward; a new season in my life. what's going on with you, friends? x)