What I did to forget about you:

What I did to forget about you:

I cut my hair; I dyed it too.
I changed my address. 
I changed my look.
I forgot to eat. 
I ate too much. 
I stayed home. 
I went out.
I reunited with old friends and made new ones along the way.
I avoided the places we used to go.
I became a regular at certain stores.
For the first week, I broke down every night.
I sweat from and inexplicable fever in my sleep. 
I craved you when I was with someone new.
I got drunk.
I got very drunk.
I tried to drown my sorrows but those bastards learned how to swim.
I washed my skin and I scrubbed hard.
I tried to get rid of the smell of your body on mine until my skin turned red and hot and tender to the touch.
I cried. I wept. I still do.
I drank some more and my tears were my chasers. 
I kissed strangers, lots of them, but all I could taste was you. 
I ran away, to the gym, back home, and back to my apartment.
I ran from my problems but they always beat me home.
I tried to replace the emotional pain with a physical one.
Muscle soreness, self inflicted to momentarily forget, yet it still reminded me of you: of the time you hit me, and the time I hit you.
I slept. I went days without sleeping. I was drinking my pain away. Staying up late with champagne supernovas to celebrate one day without thinking about you.
Clouds of white, snow and smoke enshrouded me and I felt protected. But they dissipated and I saw you out, with someone else, and I had to start again and forget the progress I had made.
I cried alone and I cried with friends.
I promised myself: “This time around I will forget…about you, about us, about the person I was.”
I danced until my body ached, so that I could get home and sleep, too exhausted to think of anything before I went to bed.
I met someone, I let them go. I loved you, but I loved myself more.
I lost you, but I found myself. I learned to love myself.
I cut my hair. I changed address. 
I danced and I drank but this time to celebrate.
I cried some more, but not for you this time around.
I cried for life, for youth, and for joy.
I cried for the happiness I missed out on while waiting for you, to come home, to come back into my life.
I found joy and I found life.
Most importantly, I found myself when I forgot about you.



My brother is almost eighteen, but whenever we get together I still feel like I’m ten years old, and he’s four, and we’re playing the Legend of Zelda in his room at 7am on a Saturday morning. I’m so grateful to have spent some time with my best friend and to have witnessed the splendor of New York City with him.

Cocteau Twins

My skin was kissed by the sun as I walked down the streets of Austin, Texas this beautiful Monday morning. I had “Heaven or Las Vegas,” “Fifty-fifty Clown,” and “Cherry-coloured Funk” on replay as I tilted my face upward every now and then to look at the beautiful blue dome of the sky that was above me. If you ever want to feel fabulous as you walk home, you should put on some music by the Cocteau Twins; it will change your life.

Dreams in El Paso are like the raindrops that fall on the desert. They evaporate when they touch the ground, creating clouds of hope that roam the skies in search of a place that will allow them to nurture the earth.

The Perpetual Shopper

The doors to Prada Marfa are sealed, leaving you with the urge to try on the products on display and prohibiting you from fulfilling your consumerist duty as an American.

Here in the middle of nowhere you are reminded of two things: the modern meaning of our existence and entropy.

“I shop therefore I am.”- Barbara Kruger

What do we live for? How much am I worth? The materialistic society that we live in makes us drive to establishments like this to shop and buy more. Our worth is dependent upon our ability to shop. How long do these things actually last? Should I base my entire existence on accumulating things that I can’t take with me when I die?

We are meant to decompose and disintegrate: the luxury goods, the Prada store, and the people who buy these things will one day disappear. Nature will erode the structures that we built and death will eventually take us away from this world. We will all return to the land and come back to life in a different shape or form.

West Texas

Twelve hours on the road allow you to reflect upon your life. You think about the past, the present, and the future. Memories become projected on the  vast plains and plateaus and tears stream down your face whenever you remember how alone you truly are on this earth. You become a different person every time you make the drive and you wonder why you left home in the first place. The landscape that you knew so well seems different, but it welcomes back its lost child. The mountains await you in the distance and the wind pushes you forward to help you get there faster. It is a strange feeling coming back to something that you knew so well, yet you have forgotten how much you loved it.

My Realization

I don’t need Hollywood to be a celebrity. There might not be cameras following me around all day, but I have enough material to put the Kardashians to shame. My life is memorable and exciting no matter what. I am out there “doing me” and doing it better than anyone else.