life – Page 2 – brittany given.

journal forty-five.

Every year, I write a letter to myself And every year, that letter saves me — it starts with me

two hours before sunset I’ve realized that’s my favorite time outside, at my new place maybe old to some, but new to me on my balcony, overlooking my city I’m swinging swinging swinging swinging more like softly rocking actually I’m softly rocking on the only thing I have out here— one sole hammock and theContinue reading “journal forty-two.”

journal forty-one.

I cannot describe how much I love this Sitting outside, raised stories from the ground Hammers of construction for new, unmet neighbors Whistles of the train leaving the station below Staring at the city an arm’s reach away She is begging me to call her home As if she is all I will ever knowContinue reading “journal forty-one.”

journal thirty-nine.

In my dreams, I’m dancing Spinning around a large, empty room I’ve got moves, this girl Wouldn’t you like to see? Twirling and dipping Swinging and tipping Hands up high How long since you’ve last let loose? Emptied your thoughts Until all that’s left Is yourself? And this beat—a one two three four and aContinue reading “journal thirty-nine.”

journal thirty-eight.

who are we without the people we love? one of my favorite things is standing in airport arrivals. seeing family and friends unite. hugs of I haven’t seen you in so long, and I’m so glad you’re here. wonder in the eyes of faces taking in a new city for the first time. it feelsContinue reading “journal thirty-eight.”

journal thirty-six.

I see these new generations (Said as though I’m even that old myself) And my aspirations, drive, and youth are reflected in their faces In the way they talk, the way they act And I think, Remember when

journal thirty-five.

not another one think about how those will look when you are older if my body must carry these scars of my youth and will be marked by age why can I not choose what reminders I carry why can I not choose art – my body is a canvas and I will be theContinue reading “journal thirty-five.”

journal thirty-three.

fall hard while you’re young. let the ground scrape your knees yet again. build calluses around your knuckles and finger tips. lose yourself in the mall with the fear to never be found. forget where you placed your favorite baby blanket, the one you carry with you everywhere. let yourself hurt. so when you areContinue reading “journal thirty-three.”

journal thirty-one.

If you could document your life, how would you do it? Would you journal? Would you vlog? Paste pictures together in a scrapbook to create a collage? Would you write songs of the days you laughed and the nights you cried—for both you to look back on and your successors to use as a guide?Continue reading “journal thirty-one.”

journal thirty.

Everyone I have loved, I’ve loved in years. 2020 was the first. Naive and innocent, it saw the world behind doe-eyes. It was the process of learning to walk but wanting to run while knowing no guidance had been written yet. 2021 was electric. The taste of something new, something different. It was high inContinue reading “journal thirty.”