I want to be like Kanye --
I'll be the king of me, always!
Do what I want and have it my way,
all day,
like Kanye!-- The Chainsmokers ft. Siren, Kanye
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Julie texting me at the end of our trip: "our friendship survived the travel test because we didn't want to kill each other"
<3
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The following excerpts were live blogged throughout my trip in Portland. Enjoy.
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The sun shone red and hot onto the horizon of Portland. Light dripped between the clouds like like honey from a broken bowl. We descended through the cumulonimbus wisps, and I thought of how envious the rest of the world must be of me right now.
Other people are bound to soil, trapped by gravity. Yet here I was, soaring through clouds. Here I was, flying through heaven.
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What first impressed me about Portland was its foliage. I hailed from Sacramento, known in California as the City of Trees, but the evergreens of Portland put Sacramento to shame. Here, the earth was vibrant. Refreshing.
Truly, it was as if I found a way to run away from life itself.
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Being in Portland is full of nostalgia - or rather, the lack of memories of Portland is what makes me nostalgic. I am realizing only now how much I ignored Portland the first time I was here. I was so enthralled with the boy next to me, who at the time received all my infatuation and admiration, that an entire city of color and culture flew over my head. I adored him so much that he made a brand-new city seem like a footnote in my story with him. Since then, he's become the last thing I ever wanted him to become. He grew into just another chapter in my novel. Portland, among many recent events, reminds me of how ephemeral are the syllables in my words, the verses in my poetry. Yesterday, I forgot who Portland was. Today, however, I will seize this city.
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"My co-worker died today."
...
"A toast to Rommel."
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At first light, the air felt heavy and the world seemed overly quiet. It almost felt like the calm before the storm, but I knew that the storm had already come. The storm had already gone on a rampage through my life and tore a wound into my soul. All I could hope for that I wasn't in actuality trapped in the eye of a hurricane.
It's funny how the bad tends to compound upon itself. I'd like a life where I tend towards cautious optimism. In reality, every step and every gesture made me hold my breath.
'Please tell me it's over for now.'
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I really want to tell myself that I don't know her story. I want to tell myself that she understood us as little as we understood her. I want to tell myself that regardless of what I think of her, her life has sustenance and meaning.
Yet as we walked away from the bar and back towards our hostel, I laughed and clumsily said what I really wanted to say, because I'm not that perfect, I'm not that selfless, and I'm not that free of judgment,
"Man, what a fucking bitch. She needs to get over herself."
I knew without a doubt that at that moment, she was saying the exact same thing about me.
Bitch.
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During my time in Portland, I realized that I had a decision to make for my return in San Diego.
At the same time, during my time in Portland, I remembered something about myself:
I've never been one to hold back on love.
“I am. I always am. But it’s always worth it.”
My heart is pounding.