Late-night phone conversations and stifling giggles so as not to wake up our sleepy towns. Sharing secrets, irrational fears and dreams of where we'll end up one day. Songs and playlists we've kept near and dear to our hearts are sent, with hopes that the hidden messages could be decoded by the other. It's odd how we came to be where we are, with twelve days of conversation attempting to make up for twelve years of silence. An unconventional friendship sparked by a mutual love for throwing caution to the wind that could potentially place us on the brink of something beautiful. To be perfectly frank, monotonous moments of my day are broken up with daydreams of you: Slow dancing under the stars, while soft and unimposing melodies surround us. Attempting to reach the end of a To-Do List that's ever-growing with trips to far away lands and ghost towns, guitar duets as the California sunshine fades over the horizon, and a world of firsts we've yet to experience.

What a strange relationship that's beginning to bloom, but my goodness, I'm in it if you are.


In an attempt to clear out my hard drive, I found some writing samples I never initially intended to publish. Here goes nothing.

June 3, 2010:
Trying to accurately describe our friendship would cause an aneurism of sorts. Our last real encounter ended with you admitting to your newfound feelings for me. However, because she had just come back from her year-long jaunt abroad in an attempt to clean up her act, you couldn't find it in your heart to continue what we had. Why must beautiful confessions such as these always tip-toe around a "but so-and-so?" Due to some unforeseen circumstances, a not-so-brief encounter with illicit substances and an exclamation sure to echo in her mind for an indefinite period of time, you've now strolled back in my life. And I'm there with open arms. My goodness. When I stepped out the door and locked eyes with you for the first time tonight in half a year, I was afraid my beating heart would be audible. You held me in an embrace that seemed to stretch on for hours and hours as I gently traced indecipherable shapes against your back and our hearts beat in synchrony and, God, what I would have done to stay in that moment with you forever.

I'm quite unsure as to how many allusions I've made about you in my corner of the internet, but the words stuck end to end would span to the moon and back, I love you so.


It's terrifying how the last few weeks of the year are quickly approaching when I still feel like I haven't gotten through July. But of course, I'm merely living in the past, something that's easier than facing all the worries of tomorrow and whatnot. Oh, boo-stinkin-hoo. I've neglected this blog for five months and I didn't even think twice when I received a notification on my phone's calendar that it was my second bloggerversary. It wouldn't have felt right celebrating a milestone with my passive attitude towards the entire thing.

You know how I keep track of time now? Through however many weeks' worth of PostSecrets I haven't read on my reader. (It's currently at 4, for those curious enough. Unread items: 605.) To be frank, this whole full-time, 9am-5:30pm job sucks. In addition to feeling like I have absolutely no time to devote to anything else, I am miserable sitting at my desk for those eight hours everyday. Eight hours + two total hours while in transit = fifty hours a week/two hundred hours a month that I wish could be spent doing something I'm passionate about. My sketchbook's collecting dust, my watercolors and brushes and Micron pens are nowhere to be found, and whenever I feel like translating my thoughts onto pen and paper, I simply feel too lazy to do so.

Hi, I'm Marianne and I'm feeling jaded.

Currently listening: