Im sitting on my couch, looking out across the street at the houses and ocean past them. Sitting here feeling miserable for myself. scrolling on social media and wishing my life was more. But silly thing is that where I am used to be a dream of mine. or maybe I just liked the idea of it? Deep down I don't think I had been planning on being here for as long as I have. but now I feel stuck. stuck and dreaming of a life I want. a life I LEFT. So instead of crying about it more, I'm going to write it down. I mean isn't that a form of manifestation? So here's my dream life. I am back home in Costa Rica. back in a jungle brimming with life. every step you take there is something new to admire. I have a little house in the quiet jungle. Mostly open air, screened in, but where you can hear the birds and the monkeys. the cicadas. the frogs that sing from the darkest parts of the jungle at night. ...
They say everyone remembers their first. And they usually mean in a romanic way. The first person you lost your virginity to blah blah blah. But I could care less about that. I remember my other firsts. Growing up we all expiernce our "firsts" and I have a habit of thinking about mine often. The first friend I had in elementary school. Her name was Desiree. We bonded over our love of horses and Harry Potter. and later shared the same bully. My first middle school friend. We became friends because we were homeschooled and there was no one else. we grew to have a special connection. The girl I smoked my first cig with. I think about her every time I light one. I wonder what she's doing. I wonder if she remembers that night like I do. How nervous we were, feeling like true rebels. The girl I got drunk with for the first time. Running around the beach at night, giggling, and feeling that feeling of freedom for the firs...