Observations inside silence are always the loudest to me.
One of my favourite people who hails from the South Island of New Zealand spent a few days in my beach hut recently.
We guzzled gin drinks and played hair colour games with another favourite who dwells down Byron way.
We dipped carrot sticks in garlic dips and swapped secrets and silliness. The colours of my life are violet and gold. They remain that way.
Seven years back two of my best friends killed themselves within nine months of each other. That reality floated past these pages somewhere, right around the time when I shut down.
Considering I keep five friends in my pocket, losing close to 50% of them was something I never tried to accept.
Not until these past few weeks.
When y’all wonder where I went. Inside a broken heart is probably the best excuse I can float you.
I never took a minute to think about it. I’ve been crying a bit recently. I’m finally facing what the fuck my problem is.
Per the recommendation of one of my favourite kiwis, I’m finally starting to dance it off. That’s what the boys would want.
Blast this. You’re welcome.