The ironic thing about loneliness is that it never really leaves you alone

Here is a smiling photo of me on Canada’s birthday as I revel in the company of an Englishman and my talented photographer of a best friend, both of whom I am going to miss. We were waiting for some really intense fireworks to begin, and they did not disappoint.

Update: Here in British Columbia, it’s been the driest, hottest summer in over 120 years. Water-usage restrictions are already in effect; in some places it has reached stage four severity, which basically means that it’s illegal for many people to water their lawns, fill their pools etc. I technically live in a temperate rainforest, which is a particular type of biome that can only be found in small, select areas on earth. The keyword being “rainforest”, yet we haven’t had rain here in my city since the 24^th of June, and before that, about June 1^st, according to the weather-stat’s website. On July the fifth, the sun was blocked out over my city by a cloud of ash rising up from the forest fires. Still, the hot days are strange, the sky an ashy yellow instead of clear blue. Forests, animals, and people are suffering from the 77 active wildfires blazing across the province, a number which breaks more records than I’m comfortable with. So- in light of recent events, here is a waterfall that is much less impressive than it normally is.

What does it mean to truly miss someone? It’s something I’ve thought about a lot recently, as I’ve said goodbye to an unfortunately large number of amazing people. At first, I thought that missing someone was a constant ache. It has certainly been that way in the past. I think of it as a bruise that sort of hurts when you move and needs time to heal. It’s definitely not inaccurate. It’s time for an unnecessary analogy:

Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that missing someone isn’t always a pain. It’s as if someone has come into your life and dug a bunch of holes around you. You can ignore it when you’re standing on solid ground, but as soon as you near the holes you begin to pay attention in an attempt not to fall in.   Right now, there are a lot of holes around me. I walk around the holes near the school I won’t be attending, the coffee shop I won’t spend any more time in, the beach I won’t be swimming at. Everywhere, really. It’s not specifically unpleasant, but it’s exhausting to have to look out for holes every time I leave the house.  

Tatters

We went for a walk to bid one another farewell and the found this little fairy mansion while running for the actually ferry, which we were going to be late for. We took pictures anyways.

a friend sits on a log and rethinks his life choices as I run around the beach pointing my camera at everything that moves in order to try and capture the sunset lighting in a way that doesn’t make everything look like it’s been bathed in fake-tanner

Goodbyes are harder than they should be, especially when I know that they are only temporary. But any extended amount of time spent without this treasure of a person by my side seems almost unbearable. I wish you the most amazing year, Rowan, and I will see you soon though in a very different place. As you said, our story is endless, and I hope you understand how much I appreciate the chapters we’ve spent together so far. Good luck, my adventurous friend. I’ll meet you for coffee on the other side of the world, sometime.

We had planned to go camping for about a month, but the four of us are professionals at creating thoroughly under thought plans only to have them fall through. Often at the last minute. This last minute failure tends to come from a problem with rides, a previously forgotten commitment, or, in this case, a cougar sighting in the area.

My friend and I trekked through town with our bags and a guitar, trying to decide what to do. Were we going to risk death-by-cougar in order to keep our plan in-tact, or were we going to give up? After eating an entire container of raspberries and making a ridiculous amount of phone calls, the plan was simply moved to another location.

We arrived at Piper’s Lagoon and were promptly attacked by an army of burrs. By that point it had been a very long day, and the feeling of burrs in our shoes and on our ankles broke our fragile spirits. We ended up sitting on a beach, hardly speaking, and looking at cool ocean creatures. Finally, we received the long-awaited “we are here” call from our partners in crime. Our broken spirits were healed by the power of hot, over-processed food, cookies, music and very good company.

The tent was set on a grassy outcrop, overlooking the ocean. It was late, we were all tired and full, and we fell asleep. In the morning, we made oatmeal, instant coffee, searched for seaglass, and watched the boats float past in the early morning sun. What may have seemed like a day of disaster, turned into one of the best experiences I’ve had, simply because I was in good company.

The point of this post is not only to acknowledge the time one of our plans actually worked out, but to emphasize how incredibly grateful I am for the people in my life right now. There are, as I’ve previously stated, not many people in a young persons’ life that will stick around indefinitely. But I’m willing to fight of any amount of burr forests to keep you three a part of my future, and that’s a promise.

I know that no matter what paths we take these next couple months, we will greet one another at the end of it all as though not a day has passed.