these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
there are these sudden, unexpected moments when walking down the street that tears begin to sting inside my eyes. there are these sudden, unexpected moments when everything i'm made of wants to come out, wants to rip me in half. sometimes it happens on the train. maybe it is a certain quality of the light, a certain time of day. there are these sudden, unexpected moments of beauty and sudden, unexpected moments of tremendous sadness. in these moments i long to hear my mother's voice. but i have only my own. and i tell myself "don't cry, little girl. don't cry."
listening to pearl jam's "release" this evening for the first time in years, i want to cry. i am alone here in my white room. there is no one to hide from. and besides, i mastered the art of silent crying a long time ago. but i hold myself together. i pause the music. i look at my mother's face inside my memory and instantly look away. there are things i haven't yet learned how to look at without becoming a child again.
i know she would be proud of me. sometimes this knowledge makes such an unspeakable longing quake within me.
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