17 years of Emma





A letter to Emma,


Our conversation earlier got me thinking: why do i say sorry so much?

I used to think it was out of habit, a space filler in the many awkward pauses we have as awkward friends, but i think it’s more than that.

Perhaps it’s that I honestly don’t feel worthy of being your friend.

Before that fine summer’s day two years ago as we sat on the beach doing sit ups, i didn’t even think a person like you could exist. God in that moment stripped down our walls, showing me a person so very brilliantly amazing and strange.

I knew i could never let you go.

As our friendship has progressed, i have been blessed with the opportunity to see your soul for everything it is: absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Never before have i met someone so godly and kind, while simultaneously being so humble. Your consideration for others is so incredibly special, your character is unprecedented, your fire for God is continuously so inspirational.

I feel honored to be your friend; to be able to watch you grow and be there along side you tripping and falling. As you know, i’m a pretty independent and reserved person who doesn’t share much with people,  but i can honestly say that i couldn’t live without you in my life. You’re so much more than a best friend, you really are a sister and i love you so so so very much.

Thank you for always checking in on me, being kind and considerate, being weird, always having me at your house, your amazing dance skills, your love for God, your passion in life, for being honest, for being so peaceful, for always being positive, for the many deep conversations we’ve had, for the light ones, for knowing literally every movie line by heart, for your scream (its my favorite), for loving old disney channel as much as i do, for your beautiful face that is almost my entire instagram, and lastly, for being you.

So yes, I say sorry A LOT.

I’m sorry for that (lol), but i can’t help it.

I don’t think i’ll ever feel worthy of being your friend.

You’re just too spectacular.


Happy 17th birthday Nugg,

I love you to the moon and beyond. ❤

i screamed



These words reverberate through my skull.


My lips never move, eyelids hover in a blank stare as i silently reply to the words tossed around me like i’m standing in the middle of a dodge ball game.

I never noticed before now how much people TALK AND TALK AND BLAHBLAHBLAH…

All they ever want to do is talk and pound each other with these whirling balls of letters and expressions and it just gets so damn overwhelming.


Silence is my safety.

If i must, i will listen, but never speak.

Words are more weighted than i think they understand, and yet they flippantly throw about as many as they can bear.

They throw them and take them and hand them to me until i’m buried completely.

Yet how would they know this?

How would they know that I’m drowning and panicking when all I ever do is grunt in reply.

I’ve found that silence is easily ignored.

It’s easy to miss, easy to keep throwing words at people and fail to see the bruises that paint their body purple and blue.

It’s hard to hear their struggle to breath when all you ever do is speak.

My brain is only what i hear now.

It speaks to me telling me when to speak, what to say, how to feel.

Much of the time it yells at me, it screams until finally i can’t keep the silence going.

I begin to scream.

Tears come first, then my lungs rise and fall faster than even they are talking.

My hands shake and begin to tingle.

Am i dying? Is this what death feels like?

Why can’t i see? Why can’t i speak?

The blood in my body is hot, it hurts so bad.


The screaming stops.

I’m in a pool of clear water with only the sound of distant muffled voices.


Am I dead?


The pool drains slowly and I see the face of someone i love sitting across from me.

I see that their hands hold mine tightly, pressing peace and affection into my skin.

Their voice drifts softly to me

“…breath out… Yes good, keep it up.”

I don’t know how long we sat there, but whenever the screaming came back, I would try to focus on their gentle voice echoing

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, you are safe…”


All they wanted was a response, yes I understand.

So that i did,

I screamed.




we drove to san pedro…?


One of the strangest and most magical things about my friendship with Eden is that we always somehow end up where we never intended to be. We love to adventure together, and sometimes we just say

“hey, lets get in the car and just drive.”

Sometimes we drive for minutes, and other times (like this time) we drive for almost an hour wherever the road takes us. I’m generally the driver, so i tend to head either North or South (west doesn’t take us very far lol) and just follow the sunshine. We’ve found some of the most magical views, small beautiful parks, pretty buildings, fun museums, etc. Just about anything you can think of, we’ve run into it.


On this fine friday, June 30, Eden and I drove South towards Palos Verdes in hopes of catching the sun on a cloudy day. Eden being the cute berry that she is looks stunning of course 🙂 After stopping along the water, we just drove and drove and drove behind the slowest truck on a one-lane road, and somehow ended up in this little nature preserve in the middle of neighborhoods across from a beach. The clouds were coming fast so we froliced and got pricked by flower stems as quick as we could. These are a couple pics i got 🙂

So as our adventure came to an end, we started heading back home. As I got on the freeway I was shocked to see in the distance the words “San Pedro” on what looked like a large power plant.


Well we did. And then I drove her back and we had a lovely time.

Despite ending up where we never intend to, its almost like the road always leads us exactly where we were meant to be (cheesy ik, just roll with me here).

LA is a very cool place because there are all of these little hidden treasures that a lot of people simply don’t have the time to find.

But we find them, Eden and I, and take advantage of all their glory.

I hope you can enjoy them with us 🙂