unfinished snippets

I'm going back

I can't believe I'm going back. It feels like a dream, like something that I made up.

The forests, the giggles, the campfires, it all exists in the haze of my spotty memory, living, breathing. It's alive, but barely holding on.

I want more of it. I crave more of it. More of the happiness, more of the sense of peace I had when I was there—more of anything I can grasp at to keep it in my reality. I don't want it to slip away.

It's too important of a memory, of an experience.

I remember everything about it, and I don't ever want that to change. I remember the people, the weather, the sun streaming down on my face through the trees. I remember the loneliness of the first day, wondering if I'd always be alone.

I remember laughing with my now best friend, talking about prayer and wondering if we'd ever be enough. I remember being on shaky terms with my childhood friend and thinking that we always would be. Maybe I was right about that one.

I remember feeling pure happiness, for the first time in my fucking life. I remember being free. I remember closing my eyes during worship and holding out my hands to the God I always knew was there but never invited in.

I remember making friends that would last me a life time. I remember feeling in love. I remember the pain of knowing that they were just out of my reach, and that they always would be.

I remember the sun, and the clouds, and worship music blaring in the background behind me as I felt electricity pulsing in the air around the crowd.

We were young. We were alive. We were bright. And we were on fire.

7/19/2018
12:53am