life is good

it really is.

I have not posted on here in months.

Nearly a year.

You cannot make up for and summarize a life in a year. What I can say is that since last June when I posted, they’ve been the best months of my life. Amongst the curveballs and the confusion that life throws at you, these sunshine and there is happiness.

Which sounds like quite possibly the most cliché thing that you can say. But clichés begin with truth. It’s their foundation.

I am at the point in life when you can start to make decisions, to do things, to be your own person. Where I have the ability to plan out a life that I want to lead, versus a life that I am put into.

My friends are beautiful and I feel beautiful and if you asked me, I would not change a thing about senior year. Something has changed in me, this past year, since I’ve last posted.

I would say my self-confidence has grown, but it feels bigger and mightier than that. My entire essence has molded itself into something that I feel safe and empowered holding.

And in 37 days I will graduate high school and leave everything behind in my wake, in 5 months I will be leaving to travel the globe for a year and begin to fulfill my dreams and in a year and a half I will be starting college in Boston and studying journalism or international relations.

Life is looking really good & I am so proud of myself. it’s a good life, hazel grace

Morgan Does A College Application Essay

Story-telling often highlights a positive character development in the protagonist. In many works, particularly in the modern young adult genre, character development is seen through a main character that begins the story shy, introverted, but is taught by a handsome lad to break out of her shell. I am like this, in that I am very introverted. Quiet, I keep to myself, and prefer solitude. In the past year, I had a “like in the movies experience” in that I grew close to one of the most extroverted and social boys in the school. But what I confirmed from the loud boy with a quick step was that being introverted is not “cured” by being with an extrovert and most importantly that being an introvert is not something that needs to be cured. What I confirmed was that my being an introvert is not a crutch, but a gift.

Writing has been my obsession and passion since I was a kid. My first book was written in pencil in a spiral notebook when I was in fifth grade. It was a 70 page handwritten tale titled “Fluttery” about a fairytale land. Although I do not remember why I began writing, I remember why I continued writing. The nature of my writing changed dramatically throughout the years, from the fantasy novels of elementary and middle school to the short prose and poems that I write today. My writing has become something so much a part of me that one can never truly know me without knowing my work.

The boy who I befriended this past year, the extrovert, knew this before I was fully aware myself. Before he got to know me, he got to know my writing. I read to him what I had written about a boy with a red balloon who “forgets how to breathe when the moon is too bright.” He went on to read about “salt water dreams and sugar water oceans” about “tones of sepia dripping down your spine and beating across your ribcage” about “troubled thoughts of how and why space was formed”. I have realized, he came to know me more through snippets of prose than late night conversation.

If it were a chick-flick, he would have taught me that I have meaningful words to speak, and I would have become like him: social, outgoing. I am glad that he did not do this and I am glad that I did not become an extrovert because of him. Being quiet fuels my muse. There are million words surging within me. For all the times that I have kept to myself, for the wallflower that I am, my words have made it worth it. I have this anxiety with letting people look at my writing. Whereas I used to believe that I was anxious because I was unconfident in the content in quality, I now know that this is false. I am anxious about sharing my writings because I am quiet in nature, and by handing someone my writings, I am handing them the most private parts of myself, and all of the words that I have chosen not to speak aloud.

Through the act of writing, I become a new version of myself. It’s an extroverted version, where I am open to both the paper and myself. My immediate reaction to when life takes a turn is to write about it. That extroverted boy, he went in a matter of months from assuming I was boring because I did not speak often, to claiming I was the most interesting person he knew, with worlds swimming in my head and ink always staining the paper.

sad, searching for happy

White lipstick comes cheap from the drugstore counter, bought with birthday money and change from behind the bubble gum machine. I took the lipstick home, hiding it with candy wrappers and movie stubs under my bed. I was young then, the idea of makeup still terrifying. In my innocence I forgot about the white lipstick, brining it out only occasionally when there was a dusty mirror and beating heart. I would dab it lightly on, just a pale ghost coating of white over lips. But pig tails and knee-high socks told me it looked bad and I licked it off my lips, stashing the tube back under the bed with little consequence.
And now, I wonder what has happened. Each morning, a darker coat of white painted with precision. White lipstick numbs a tongue. White lipstick, white lies. Breath that fogs the air even when the sun is out. White, everywhere. Hiding my face.
I look out at you, and you look back at me like you know me. Like I tell you only truths. But non-truths hang in the air like fruit, even for you who cannot sense them. I don’t cloak in white makeup each morning to protect myself; I do it to protect you. So that you do not worry about me. And I am sure, with a search through your bathroom I would find tubes of empty white chap stick. So you can protect me. What a vicious cycle to be caught in. Who are we?
I’m going to post a life update, because that seems like a good thing to do. There are a couple things going very right in my life right now, and a couple of things going very wrong. But we will focus on the very right things, because they have to do with travel, which was the original purpose of this blog.

A couple weeks back I visited Boston with my dad, marking my first visit there. It was the sort of cold and rainy that chills bones and freezes fingers, but still, it was nice. There’s something indescribably beautiful about travel. Not being a tourist, but genuine travel. Like waiting in the rain for the t-train to come. Like scuffling in an out of the trains with the crowd, one in many as if I were a member of the city. Walking around the streets. Being struck by the fact that there are people who walk here everyday, knowing these streets like the back of their hands and could tell you where the best latte would be. I love people on the surface level, and I love people on the deeper level. That’s the way to go. Anyway. Ramble. I went to Boston to look at colleges. Although Colorado is beautiful, there is something about the rest of the world. A desire to discover new things and to escape this hole of suburban idiots that I have spend 17 years living among. However, to be completely honest, Boston was not as awesome as I had hoped.
It was awesome, yes, just not what I imagined. There are some places that exceed your expectations, and Boston was not one of those places.
However, I did fall in love with Boston University. I toured their Communications department and it was magical. Everyone was so friendly, and their program is so, so good and developed. They had amazing equipment (an entire room where students can borrow go pros, $1000+ cameras, and basically every film or photography equipment that you could ever need. Plus, I talked to another journalism major. She was really nice and liked me, so that was nice. Honestly, I think that there program would be perfect for me. The only problem right now is tuition and also I do not know if I could live in Boston.
The other positive travel news… I leave for Senegal in less than three months! Wow! I have been waiting for so long for this that it feels surreal. I booked my ticket to and from D.C. (where the plane for Senegal takes off) last night, and used the mileage points on my mom’s credit card so I saved $500 and got it for free. Which is amazing. And today I wrote the check paying for the tuition. I am so surprised with myself that I managed to save up as much as I did. And also so proud of myself. I did not think that I was going to be able to go on this trip, because of extreme cost, but I worked hard and somehow managed to gather nearly all the money. I am not sure how I did it, I am still in shock! These next three months better go  by so quickly. They are all that I am living for, at this point.
(Well, that and the fact that my best friend Isaac is coming to Colorado for a couple weeks in either June or August and oh my god we are going to rock the town.)

I do not want to spend too much time on the negative bits. Just know that my family is getting bad and miserable again. Easter was probably one of the worst family days in several months. I will not go into details, but there was a lot and it has left me feeling even more down than usual today. That quickly written crap piece at the beginning was addressed to my mom. I have been telling her these little lies lately. White lies. They really just started a month ago when I started getting bad again and I had to constantly be somewhere to distract myself. I tell her I am with friends, or somewhere that I very much am not, so that she does not worry. I am usually alone. At book stores or driving around. Trying to both think and not think. I know it is not good to lie. I just do not want her to worry about me. She has enough on her plate.
With the depression sort of things that I have been feeling, other than family there is some bits about friends and self-perception and school and others that I do not want to bitch about. Basically I am a deeply lonely person. Also the Friday before Easter, that was one of my worst mental days in maybe even a year and I am glad I got through it. Now that my mental state has reached what I hope is its absolute low, I am hoping that it starts to improve. We will see. If anyone wants to find me and cuddle me I would be very in love with that I do desperately need to just lie down and rant to someone for a long time and feel loved.

This is all ❤
I will try to post more in these 3 months leading up to my trip, but maybe not because school is about to get hella stressful.

the state of lonliness

This isn’t a travel writing thing…. I just wrote this in 10 minutes. I didn’t even read over it. I just wanted to put it somewhere even though it sucks. All my writing has been so sucky lately. Anyways, I think I will try to get into this blog more. Even though no one is going to see this. Roar loneliness.

She stands on the edge of the precipice and there is salt in her eyes. She breathes and the air turns silver. You tell her that it’s time to go home and all that she hears is that you love her. You don’t know if you love her. You feel bad for not loving her. But there’s the sky and she is staring at the sky and watching the sunset and you remember not to feel too bad. She is not in love with just you. She is in love with the world, and you are part of it. You are more part of her world than the sky is the moon and the life is the breath. There is salt on her fingers and when she kisses you she is kissing the sky. Her eyes are flowers and you are a beast. Your hair is frizzed and out of control, and the smiles that you give are not as strong as they used to be. They used to be 3 pm grins in stone hedge libraries. Where you stared at a computer and the computer laughs at you for being so dependant.
Those were the days that you felt in company. When there was a buzz and a laugh. And now you’re with her and you’re the closed you’ve ever been from being far from death. She laughs and laughs and you feel so alone. You don’t know why you feel so alone. It is almost as if alone is not what you feel, but what you are.
You wonder if you will ever be used to being alone, but you do not think so.
Days like these, they are harder now.
Now that you realize what she has done to you. You want frizzy hair and soft cheeks.
You want licorice and Gameboy.
You have her waist in your hands and you’re begging her not to fall. You say that you will miss her. But she doesn’t believe you.
And she falls.
She falls.
She falls.
She is the world and the world is crashing.
The sunsets are not always gorgeous,
you learned this when you were but a child. But yet they have never been uglier than they are now.
Now, with vomit in her stomach or maybe it is your stomach.
She is in love with the idea of spending forever with you, with one person. But she doesn’t know how to do that. She’s scared of falling, even though it is all that she wants to do. Her complexity confuses you but she tells you not to worry.
It will all be over one day.
The pain will fade.
The skies will be pretty again.
She will be pretty again.
you forgot what sadness was like
or maybe you just didn’t remember until just now. The sound of a heart breaking is silent. It falls on the velvet floors of the doctors office, and gets swept up with the other tears and bandages and blood and body parts. They fall into a tunnel that churns and churns. It never stops churning and we never stop leaving.
You stand on the precipice and there are tears in your eyes and your head aches and you know that you are alone. You cannot stand being this alone. But you have nothing to do. You sit down and there is so much salt on your body you know what she must have felt.
You want to jump into the river but you don’t know where that river is.
You feel like you will never be clean. You feel like you will never be the same. And the earth is crashing and bumping into your soul. She tells you “land aho” until you remember that she is not here anymore. She does not exist.
What exists is the sky.
The sky that crinkles up in deformed clouds, like is it scared of the earth.
It churns your stomach, the way that the sky never laughs at you anymore.
You want to be someone.
You want to stop crying.
You want  to not be alone.
You want the sky to understand.
but the sky can never understand, it is much too solitary for that and you are much too mobile. Maybe that is why she is gone. Maybe that is why you left her. Maybe that is why when she tells you there is land aho, you swear that she is actually here.
loneliness is a state

in we go

And hello. I’m Morgan and I’ll be running this blog, a semi-continuous ramble of thoughts and stories as I aim to better my life, and make it something less than a chore and more of an adventure. I want to see the world, and I will see the world. I want to find worth and I want to find purpose. The kind of things you can’t learn in a classroom. This blog will (hopefully) track my journey from who I am today, a 17 year old girl small and afraid in the middle of the world, to who I wish to be, a nomad and writer.

Not completely sure what I will be writing about, and it’s likely to change often for a while. Patience, grasshopper.

And thus,

it begins