[i just write so much faster on a keyboard. my thoughts don't get caught at my fingertips, they just tap out so swiftly as to feel natural. ironic, i know.]

coming back feels so good and yet i'm feeling so anxious. maybe i do need to travel, despite my oft-vaunted love of montreal. maybe i need to go to the west coast & visit all those lovelies that i met this past week. go to portland, victoria, vancouver, sleep on some couches & go to shows & pretend that i'm not slowly & weirdly growing up.

not that growing up means anything if you don't want it to.

maybe i need to just be on a train by myself across canada (when i have one million dollars to spend. wtf is wrong with this country when trains are more expensive than planes?) or on a bus or stopping in cities in between & trusting that i'll find queers who have couches i can sleep on.

or maybe i just need to feel more useful in this city of mine: volunteer with p10, actually get involved in the childcare collective. make more things. apply to schools? or not.

fuck, fuck. i'm just feeling a bit out of place while also feeling so relieved to be back.

and how could i even be thinking of leaving this place of love & comfort & skin on skin & stories & drawings & eyes & mouth. i have, in fact, promised not to.