After laying awake for some time last night I turned over and opened up my journal where I scribbled these thoughts, I offer them to you as well:

There will be more. There will be more letters, more lovers, more messages written on fine-grain paper, more two-am thoughts, and three-hour phone calls. More sunburns, more kisses, and toast with butter and jam. More bathing suits and sand. There will be more love, more I love you’s, more giggles, more coffee, more tea, more sugar, more milk— or however you take it. There will be more classes, and more lessons and discussions about art and literature and whether or not anything is authentic, or good, or if any of that even really matters. There will be even more thoughts and more realizations and more connections, more slices of cheese, prosciutto, and grapes. More sunrises and sunsets, more hand holding, and even more kissing, and laughter and joy and quick glances and smirks, and more knowing that, right now we’re in this, and it’s good— and there can be and will be more, if we want. There will certainly be more holding and humming and fingers pressed into bare skin, and flowers, and teeth, and goodbyes, and hellos, and I’m sorry’s. More leaps of faith, more uncertainty, more vulnerability. There will be more, so much more.

*I couldn’t sleep last night because I was excited about the future. For no particular reason other than a deep faith. Everything is a big question mark for me, I’m entering into a new chapter of life, and I’m leaving the stability of my job to pursue *my dreams*, or at least it feels that way— the thing is I have no plan — just a commitment to being present and trusting the process.

I want to give more to my art, my writing, my friends, and my community — this Substack — that is my compass, I will follow it blindly, and try to share all that I can.

There is a part of me that is very scared — but I’m going to do it anyway because there is a part of me even deeper down that knows this is the right thing to do.

Love Always,

N.S.