Someone once told me you knew you really missed something if you missed the little, day-to-day happenings. You threw out your rose-colored glasses in lieu of some good, old-fashioned appreciation. 
When I think back at my life, very few moments stick out for me that I miss, but one of them has always been the view of Manhattan from my roof (or in this photo’s case - my best friend’s roof, though we shared the same view, living one block from each other). This view was often my sanctuary when I had a (rare, looking back at it) bad day and it was also celebrated as a back drop to every party. I remember going up there and looking out at the lights and feeling perfectly at home, like I had made it. I had done what so many people struggle to do: I had made a perfect life for myself, in the best city there is.
I knew when I moved away from the most important place that it would be a struggle. In a way, I welcomed it. I love NYC more than most in my life but I also knew that it would always be that perfect to me, so I should try something new. But I never expected to feel like I was physically falling apart once I moved here; falling apart under the weight of homesickness, nostalgia, regret and sadness.
And it’s even in these times where I wish I could just cease to exist instead of feel trapped 3,000 miles from anything that brings me happiness, that I picture this rooftop and this view. My forever home.
And I guess you only need one home, and some people aren’t lucky to get that. The only thing that keeps me going on this coast is knowing I can always go back to the best coast, my favorite city with my favorite people.
And my favorite view.

Someone once told me you knew you really missed something if you missed the little, day-to-day happenings. You threw out your rose-colored glasses in lieu of some good, old-fashioned appreciation. 

When I think back at my life, very few moments stick out for me that I miss, but one of them has always been the view of Manhattan from my roof (or in this photo’s case - my best friend’s roof, though we shared the same view, living one block from each other). This view was often my sanctuary when I had a (rare, looking back at it) bad day and it was also celebrated as a back drop to every party. I remember going up there and looking out at the lights and feeling perfectly at home, like I had made it. I had done what so many people struggle to do: I had made a perfect life for myself, in the best city there is.

I knew when I moved away from the most important place that it would be a struggle. In a way, I welcomed it. I love NYC more than most in my life but I also knew that it would always be that perfect to me, so I should try something new. But I never expected to feel like I was physically falling apart once I moved here; falling apart under the weight of homesickness, nostalgia, regret and sadness.

And it’s even in these times where I wish I could just cease to exist instead of feel trapped 3,000 miles from anything that brings me happiness, that I picture this rooftop and this view. My forever home.

And I guess you only need one home, and some people aren’t lucky to get that. The only thing that keeps me going on this coast is knowing I can always go back to the best coast, my favorite city with my favorite people.

And my favorite view.

darkbluec0nstellations asked: What was your favorite part of the Reunion Tour?

marielxhearts:

I think my favorite part of the Reunion Tour, outside of playing awesome shows with some of my best friends because that’s a given, was realizing that I COULD do the things I was afraid to do and they wouldn’t shatter me. I could stay up all night, I could drive the biggest vehicle I’ve ever driven, I could sleep for less than 4 hours and still survive, I could travel across bridges and mountains that I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it across - all things I was so afraid to do before and things that I would let ruin me on previous tours. 

I think perhaps one of the most rewarding things, and a great realization for me, was when I was driving with my friend and it was sunrise and I was begging him to pull over so we could sleep because I was so afraid that staying awake would ruin the day for me. On tour I am so careful about my voice and my mood and all of the tiny things that can affect a performance. All of our friends were slowly waking up and he just turned to me and said something along the lines of “you are alive, you are fine, and you can sleep later. You get to be here with your friends watching the sun rise over the desert, now, and not later” - a desert I had only imagined when I was little. It kind of really sunk in how I can let anxiety ruin things that are so beautiful and rare. How I can miss out on life because I just see a goal at the end of the road. I see a show, a tour, an album, a job I have to finish but not all the stuff in between which is really what makes you what you are. 

at the end of the day you can write a list of all the things you’ve accomplished but the things that really stick with you aren’t the release of day of your record, but how much it took for that day to come.

Sometimes you have a really bad year so far where every day is a struggle and you’re super sad no matter how hard you try, and you have a particularly terrible day but out of nowhere your best friend surprises you with cupcakes from your favorite place in NYC that you would go to every couple weeks with her, and a card with the saying she wrote to you the morning before you left NYC for the last time to move across the country and everything is okay.

Despite that looking at the box makes you cry on and off all day.

I want to go home.

seattle people

hang out with me. i want to go on adventures and play outside and drink beer and explore and i literally have found three people so far who are like minded (hi, plants_please!). this a big city, where are you all hiding?