i’m not really sure who i am right now. it’s may 27th, a desperately humid saturday. 12:09 pm, just past midnight. a year from now, will what we have matter? when i’m with you i feel like i’m not myself. i’ve been divided into two; one side of me living in this world but dying in another. i’m living and breathing right now, but i’m not. there are so many human things tying me down but the last thing i feel is human. i feel invisible like you’re sailing away from me on a ship, slowly but surely, disappearing into the horizon and praying that i get your message in a bottle. it’s finding the right love at the wrong time, where the obstacles aren’t just obstacles—they’re permanent obstructions. we learned about removable and irremovable obstructions at golf today and all kinds of hazards and what to do when your ball lies in an out-of-bounds zone. when your ball lies next to a natural object, it’s an irremovable obstruction. this happening between us is an irremovable obstruction. i don’t think we’re allowed to move it.




