50/51 I don't want to come back I want to be with god But I dont want to leave behind heavy, painful questions Or a mess And I don't want to live like a ghost/zombie who didn't contribute anything That's rude I want to leave behind seeds and flowers There's a really beautiful poem/verse in the Quran about planting trees-- you get blessed in the afterlife whenever a creature eats from its fruit or rests in its shade I remember asking my teacher if it was like passive income and him sighing at my crude baby bourgeois head "Yes, like passive income" Cool! I thought I was figuring out a puzzle Maybe I am Maybe baby bourgeois me was onto something I know I sound silly and nuts I understand faith is irrational And I'm okay with being irrational sometimes Not with healthcare or education But with my squishy squishy squishy heart I'm grateful for K and Emma For my exhausting and loving family For this summer village and the sea grannies For this unexpected awakening and returning to this diary For your diaries and your sweet notes For my health For WiFi For Axel and Rayanne For perfect playlists For learning what clothes feel like in a washing machine (the sea wasnt swimmable, I was stubborn, more on that later) For Ozzy (ugh) --always Ozzy in there somewhere, always |