claire white

the irony.

I think that might be one of the hardest parts of writing, publicly, on a blog. or even opening your mouth and expressing your feelings. You describe a current situation: a moment in time that feels significant enough to make concrete. But things change. And no one likes to contradict themselves.

I was waxing poetic in a post about a thought, an idea, something that felt concrete in my life. The very next day my understanding of this "thing" shattered. I ate my words. Every last one of them. And then turned into an angst cryptic on instagram. Sorry for that. I suppose I revert to that as the lesser evil, I'd much rather be angsty than perfectly manicured and composed in photos with motivational sayings when the reality is that this last week has been one of the most challenging of my life. So. Many. Things. Outside. My. Control.  And so much hurt.

I wake up to this text from my mom. Every morning since it happened.

"Where you look is where you'll go."

In those moments, i'm looking up at the over textured ceiling in our little place. I know whats beyond that and I know I'll go there, though not anytime soon. I wish. I look down. It's so easy to look there; watch my feet as they fumble to find a place on the floor where dirty clothes aren't scattered. It's too easy to look down.

"Where you look is where you'll go."

Do I have to see it? Does it need to be in front of my nose? Or can I dream it up. Can I zoom forward and away from this? I always did have a good imagination. I'm going to close my eyes and dream it and that's where I'll look.