I still like hotels

i'm little, but i'm coming for the crown. 

i'm little, but i'm coming for you. 

- lorde

it's 7.30-something. we landed a couple of hours ago and we made it to the hotel somehow. on the way there i sat in the back of the van with my nose pressed up against the window, trying to remember everything and feel it all in present tense. my boys are laughing and making gags and i'm laughing too, mainly because i can't think of anything else to do, mainly because i'm in a state of shock and a state of dreaming all at once and to be honest everything just seems so funny. i'm here, further away from my home than i've ever been, wiping sweat from my forehead, little hyper heart pounding, looking up into the concrete sky and the alien haze. this is hilarious. 

i'm sitting by the pool. i called my mum earlier and she sounded far, far away and i think about the ocean between us as i dangle my feet in the water. the boys are trying to stand on each others' shoulders and i sketch them in my diary, turning them into frantic strokes of pen against paper. somehow the mess seems right; seems silly to try and capture them still because they never are, seems redundant trying to cage their beauty and their youth because these things are so ephemeral, i guess. i give up, slide into the pool and float on my back, staring into the dusk and wondering when we'll dry off and explore dinner options. i suppose we'll just go back to the rooms and eat the creepy shit we found at the convenience store earlier and get drunk on duty-free liquor from the airport. that's fine by me. 

i was right. we push all the beds together in one of our rooms to make one super-bed and we all collapse onto it, drinking vodka and watching a korean soap opera. each of the boys try to outdo each other and it's joke after joke after joke with them. i like to sit quietly and listen and giggle and go along with mostly everything, taking notes in my head and trying to remember the moments that could, one day, be nurtured into songs.

on stage and i'm floating. long dress and flowers and glitter and i'm a mess of feeling. absurd and typical, fighter jets scream over our heads. i scream louder. the crowd cheers and i close my eyes thinking about how before you die your body releases a big load of endorphins and your life ends in ecstasy. i'm so happy right now i'm sure i could die any second. fine by me. 

i don't know where i'm going, literally and figuratively. i check my luggage in and mostly people stare because i'm wearing a big crown of flowers on my head and i'm just getting on a plane. i don't care. i wear flowers because they are beautiful and i want to be beautiful and i will never stop wanting that, not on planes, not in bathrooms, not anywhere and not ever. i guess i'm hungry for everything; i sit at subway at singapore airport, eating a tuna wrap and my stomach's full but there's something under my stomach or deep in my heart or in my brain or in my lungs that's still hungry. 

i guess i'm looking for everything to fill it up. i want to be everything...i'm coming for you.