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I remember when I first fell in love.

I was about 13 years old and wasn’t even sure if I really liked girls. But I knew I was in love with her. It was the summer and I would spend days watching the same shows as her (Grey’s Anatomy, Search for the Next Doll, etc.) and texting about them. And at night, I’d sneak out of my room when my dad was asleep so we could talk on the phone.

I remember sitting on the cool poolside cobblestone in the dark, anxiously waiting for my phone to ring, a smile at the sound of her voice on the line, and a stinky little brown dog perched on my lap.

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I remember the breakup. And the one after that. And the one after that.

I remember crying on the phone, telling him, “okay, we can pretend the be normal. but when the line gets cut, this is over. we’re done.”

I remember talking about mundane things, like we had all the tomorrows ahead of us. But I remember crying. Then the phone clicks.

I remember watching my phone ring, each missed call weighing heavier on my heart. I remember sitting on the same cobblestone floor, with the same little brown dog.

—

I remember the move. I remember hating the new house (I don’t anymore) because of how hard it was to get to.

No more cobblestone poolisde. No more late night phone calls.

—

I’m sorry I spent less time with you as we grew older, stopped talking to you, telling you things. I would say good morning, say good night, but not much else. On less busy days, I’d spend a good few minutes with you. Giving you the belly rubs you deserved, and the butt scratches you loved so much. On good days, I told you how you were my favorite Parker pupperoni.

I’m sorry there weren’t more of those.

Towards the end, I felt it coming and told myself I’d bring you to the vet. Get you checked, at least make sure you were comfortable.

I didn’t get the chance to.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it happened. I’m sorry I didn’t even get to call. I wanted to hold you, tell you you were the best boy, let you know you weren’t alone, that you were never forgotten, that you were loved.

I hate that I will never know if you knew that.

But I hope you do. I hope that, in the life you spent with us, you knew.

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Tonight feels like the summer of 2007, placing my stool by this very window, on the phone and looking out into the same city. Until the skyline warned us with the next day’s sun. Yet, all the street lights from the night before still lit, barely noticing the time passed. 

Those nights feel like school mornings, waking before what felt like most of the rest of the world, groggily going through the motions without a second thought. And those mornings feel like late nights out, until night turns back to day, having breakfast at random spots, talking, laughing, wondering when it turned bright out. And the ride home, looking out the window of the backseat, feeling a lot like looking out my window tonight. 

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Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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“Atlantic Girl” Behind The Scenes 🎥

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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Chaye as the mermaid of your nightmares, for the Karis Owen “Atlantic Girl” music video.  🐚🥀

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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Atlantic Girl MV ocular pt. 2

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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That one time Apa and I jumped on a bus to the beach, found a stranger to help us scout for shoot locations for a music video, ate literally ALL my favorite LU food, watched Kedi (now my second favorite documentary!), lay in the sun for hours (even if he doesn’t always like the being warm and sticky and sandy!!) — all because he’s the best and I luff him and it’s 3AM and I just watched Someone Great and I’m feeling soft and missing my friends much much muchly Atlantic Girl MV ocular pt. 1

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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Australia 2019

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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Lara’s birthday 2019

Taken with an Olympus Pen EE3

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Lost and found, snaps from last summer. 

Songkran, April 2019

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Kung saan-saan 🪑

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Taken with a Diana F+ using expired Kodak Portra 160 NC

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Moments Apart | Lifetimes Away 

Been having trouble with my thoughts lately. Not necessarily that I’ve been feeling worse. Just that I haven’t quite been able to process the feelings I know I need to address, which I usually procrastinate by keeping myself busy with work, but I’ve been finding focusing on even that difficult as well. Anxiety-ridden, as per usual. Wish things were different.

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Some days, I forget myself. ⠀ ⠀ And instead of me, there is a stranger. This stranger is quiet, with a short temper. Hardly anything amuses her, and almost everything exasperates her. She doesn't like the people I love. Not my friends, not my family. (My dogs, an exception.) But most of all, she dislikes me. Most of all, she can't stand my company. ⠀ ⠀ So on those days, I stay quiet and still as I can, until I remember myself again.

☾

Documenting Episodes

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Taken with a Diana F+ using expired Kodak Portra 160 NC

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En Route 📸

A collection of snapshots every first (day I remembered to) of the month in 2019 — heading out / headed home 🛣