My Truth. My Journey.

It's a very strange feeling to be back in Greece. Some of you may remember my first trip here. A seemingly lengthy two and a half months full of emotional struggles back in 2008 when I initially met this part of my (new) family. George (bio dad) and I spent the first two weeks of that holiday alone on the main floor flat awaiting the arrival of my Grandparents. Everything around and inside of me was new, and on top of that, I was falling in love with James who was thousands of miles away.

When I came back in 2010, the house was quieter - we had lost my Yiayia. My mornings were somber, my ears constantly searching out her gentle sounds. When I would come home from an exciting and adventurous day, she wasn't here to ask me about all I had seen and done. 3 years I knew her. 3. We were cheated.

And here I am again. This time though, we have lost my Pappou. It was rather sudden - a span of a few months. Cancer. We said our goodbyes back in Toronto, in a room with the most spectacular view of the Toronto skyline. I held his hand, said a lot of things I should've said years ago, and kissed his full head of salt and pepper hair.

7 years isn't enough time.
I want to stomp my feet and toss myself around like a toddler in a fit of anger screaming, "It isn't fair! It isn't fair!", but that sort of thing is frowned upon when one is soon to be 33.

I stay on my own in the main level flat now. George above, Fivi, Nikos, and Dion below.
It's eerily quiet, but I rarely feel alone. In the middle of the night, I am awoken by the loud barks of the street dogs and I'm reminded of the now empty room next to me. Pappou's snores merely echos in my mind, the faint image of him tending to the garden, of him sitting across from me on the patio while we gorge on figs and he talks more than at any other time.
Yiayia's soft loving words wash over my skin, they race up and down the hallways, and in the dining room, they force my fork reminding me to eat, eat, eat.
In many ways I know they are all but gone. That what they have given and left with and inside of each of us is their legacy and we will carry that with us always.

But today.
Ohh, today.

I miss them so much.

A very Happy 10th Birthday to my dear journal.
I don't know what life would be like without this place. Without the friendships I've forged because of it.

Big shout out to my 21 year old self for creating a space that has been so invaluable to my being.

I'm a machine - pumping out these words while the instruments of my mind turn, digest, lock and release only to start up again.
They work overtime and seek only answers from all spiritually based science; of love and life, of the complicated workings of the here and now, both inside and out.

Naked in the yo-yo of life, I hear our voices, limited. Shrieking at the aftermath of our own destruction - we melt like candles, coil up like springs too rusty to bounce back.
Masochistically breaking down the only thing that can hold us together - we are not of the same team, but enemies of our own keep. And we keep nothing, just as nothing keeps us.

Ignorance is bliss and the only green that grows is naivety.

This, the apocalypse of soul
dueling our failure

to unplug.

everything i know floats in blistering pools of tears
images, tenebrous images, so unfamiliar at times. most of the time.
they remain the cryptic scars that keep my aching heart on reserve
and searching for a back up hideout of sorts

memories are anything but tangible to everything but all of me
my hands fumbling in quiet solitude and the rush of busy city streets
moments pile up out of seconds lost to the wind but that lacked any farewell

if i could get them back
i'm not sure i would

i prefer them to remain lost to the rhythm of life
forgotten to the pieces of me that are still learning to fly solo


ahh, the promise of a new day and new words
is the only promise kept