coming home
is an empty house, a silent laptop, a messy room, and the sick taste of it being over.

i feel like my head is just a bit too light. it lolls around, threatening to roll off my neck. i'm listening to pop music because it's about that word that i just don't understand. i'm unpacking my bags because there's no choice. i'm keeping it all a secret because there's something wonderful about that intense privacy.

so much happened this week, relaxing on the central coast. and yet when we dropped mat home it felt like we had never left his tree-filled suburb. where did four days go? they disappeared in nights spent lying on trampolines staring at a brooding sky, and days sitting on and covered with the sand. i remembered some things this week. how much i love the beach, how natural it is for me to swim. what it means to whittle away hours. how amazing jeff buckley is. how childish adults can be. where my identity rests, secure and whole and deep.

and i learnt some things this week. most of them in a darkened room in the early hours of this morning. that being almost asleep is a beautiful sensation. how silence can build up and spill over and uncover everything. what clarity means, or could mean. how much i like your hand on my arm. what it means to feel protected. what i need to think through, and why.