They were especially having a hard time understanding Angus’s accent. At one point she was speaking to my Dad in Lithuanian and said Angus’s name out loud in English, completely mispronouncing ‘Angus’ to ‘Anus.’ She thought she was being discreet but he overheard.
I shot my mom an aggressive look and said, “Oh my god, Mom. It’s pronounced Angus!”
Then she looked at him and said, “Oh, I so sorry,” and that was the moment it all went downhill.
I looked more closely at her face. She was red and her eyes were building up with tears. She was trying to hold back a smile, but I could tell she was breaking at the seams.
Oh no. She was about to have a laugh attack.

My father walked over to my side of the bed and smiled at the sight of me.
“You happy?” he asked as he did that playful pinch on my nose.
“Yeah,” I said honestly.
I had so many memories of my father coming to my bedside like that, making sure I wasn’t going to bed with too much on my mind and that my heart wasn’t hurting too much.
“It’s time to come home vith us,” he whispered.

He could barely look at my face or my naked body, continuously begging for me to ease it down. I studied his face under mine, enjoying him under such pressure, trying so hard to think of anything other than how hot I was or how tight my pussy felt. I loved that he was losing control beneath me.

“I caught a hedgehog yesterday!” I blurted.
“Oh gawd no!” he said, “they’re ridden with ringworm!” He looked at me in disgust. “Did ya touch it with your bare hands?”
"Well, yeah! I had to catch it!”
“Oh gawd, that’s disgustin’! You’re probably ridden with ringworm.”
“Oh my god, no I’m not,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Get your hedgehog hands outta here!”

I walked over to the bungy check-in desk and contemplated what was so terribly wrong with my life that I would actively pay $400 to strike fear into my body.

Then, we sat in a small boat and got all close and cuddly. Our guide put his finger up to his lips signaling for us to be quiet. He walked the rim of the boat and, of course, stood directly in front of me where his bulge was just above my face. Thank God he turned the light off because my attention would not be focused on the glow worms.

It was completely unnecessary to use them, maybe it was meant for wet days when people needed an extra grip. Still, we tried capturing the ‘challenge’ through photos by using low angles and exaggerated facial expressions.
It was all a really fun experience because Orange and I were acting like silly kids. We were doing parkour, weird yoga positions for photos, fake food endorsements, acting like alpinists, etc.

Many people had warned us about the flight and how the pilots seemed too young to carry nitrile the aircraft. I wasn’t worried about it, if anything I was excited to be in the air. Orange on the other hand was very nervous, but he kept his cool. He didn’t have much flight experience, let alone being crammed into a tight space. Now, I felt it was my turn to comfort him.
We took off. “It’s kind of smart that they have young pilots doing these trips,” I said, “cause when you think about it, if we crash, it’s not like they’re gonna kill hundreds of people. They’re only going to kill about 9.”
I don’t think that helped ease him, so I asked him to point out all of the places we walked through.

My heart broke a little bit just having to spit the words out. Of course I wanted to show him how much I could love him, how deeply capable I was of it, but I knew my ways as of right now. I would only send him into a quickening pain. I guess it was why I found it easy to put my ego aside with him. He was too good and pure-hearted for my shit.

“It was hard to see from a distance. I’m sorry, I thought it would be funny. I was just kidding.”
I felt an intensity arise as I thought back to all of the times people had said that phrase to me. Most of the time it was when insults were being disguised as jokes followed by, “I was just kidding.”
“Orange, I told you I don’t pick up on jokes like that. It’s just not funny to me. I perceive it as dishonesty,” I said.

I loved the way nature would always gift us with beautiful art for our eyes. It felt healing to lay our eyes upon these images, as if they brought ease to our draining thoughts. Such like stumbling upon a faded leaf with fresh water droplets, clusters of flowers that bloomed on a mossy branch or baby ferns that were just starting to peek out of the soil, breathing in a new life.

We descended down to the beach but, because the rocks were the size of small boulders, we had very little sand to walk on. Therefore, we had to hug a thin strip of land between the shore and the hillside.
“Be careful,” I said to Orange as we rock hopped our way across. There came a point where it became difficult to maneuver due to the tide coming in. A wave splashed on me which caused me to panic. I turned around to him and whispered, “I peed myself a little bit.”

We started the day by crossing a three point bridge, then meandered through more dense forestry until the views opened up to Smoky Beach. It was exposed and windy, but the rolling sand dunes appeared inviting to run through. Along the shoreline we found large yoni-shaped seashells and glowing white stones swept all throughout the beach.

When we made it to the hut, he made me a fire and then decided to go fishing for a couple hours. I ate dinner and grew very sleepy, so I read my book in my bunk to wind down. Suddenly, I heard a bird close by so I peeked out the window. It was a Kererū, also known as a wood pigeon. It had faded shades of rainbow colors that shimmered as it moved along with a bright white belly that made it look like it was wearing a tank top. It was only about 15’ away from me so I stared as it chirped and pooped, flying up to a higher branch every few minutes or so.

“Coming into Stewart Island you either choose to have an hour of misery on the ferry or a 20 minute flight of sheer terror.”

“You’ve always reminded me of Jenny from Forrest Gump,” he said.
“Because I always run away when there’s something good right in front of me?” I asked.
I took a deep breath then looked over at him, his face glistening from the setting sun, us cruising through someone’s farm land on a hot summer day. The images moving past us, unsure of where we would end up, but keeping our faith steady on the Truth. I knew I would forever be grateful for this memory and look back on it with deep appreciation. I felt closer to him, more than I ever had on the PCT.

It fascinated me how everything looked nearly identical to the Oregon coast, yet the energy felt entirely different to me. The concept of energy in general fascinated me, for I knew everything was appearing to me the way I was making it out to be. The people I placed into my field of vision, the thoughts I was presently having, my current state of mind—all of those things would reflect my outward experience. I noticed when I was in a state of reminiscing, I would feel as if something was missing. That time I caught myself thinking that Oregon was so much better and the people were much more welcoming. It was a red flag for my mind to pay attention to the story I was telling myself. Also, a reminder that I could change my outlook which would shift the perception in front on me, all in an instant.

We walked up and over tall grassy cliffs that overlooked the ocean. Everything felt larger than life with a magical essence, something I would imagine Heaven to be like. Sea salt mist covered the air, the sun strong on our cheeks and youthful adventure guiding our steps. The moment we entered the wooded section, the scent became intoxicating—nature’s natural perfume.

I loved how chill everyone was on this trail, it reminded me of my own hiking style. Most people were not purists and would hop and skip around, mainly avoiding road sections and farmlands to spend more time in the highlands of the mountains. Oftentimes, hikers connected their route in different ways by combining tracks that had better views. The best part? No one was giving each other shit for what they apparently chose to do. If anything, it was celebrated the way people did their own thing and made their own adventure. I definitely enjoyed that aspect of hiking a lot more here in comparison to how it was in the states. People were really taking their time in towns and soaking up the whole experience, not just the trail. It felt good to be around such eased up energy.

Unfortunately, it was not an option because people have been getting persecuted and given fines for trespassing. Instead, we cursed under our breath as we dodged more piles of cow shit while climbing up a steep hill in the heat of the day. On the left of us there was a perfectly graded road that would give us a nice switchback to the same exact spot, but there was another sign that they invested in, basically telling TA hikers to fuck off.

I felt very appreciative today. I felt grateful for Elvis and his kisses and I felt very grateful for my thru-hiking community. I loved that Donuts and Longway were keeping the energy of trail culture together even though people were apparently giving them a hard time. Tonight really made me realize how good I had it in America. It reminded me of what I loved so much about the trails there and the people that hiked them.

I laid in the fetal position and felt through the feeling sense of abandonment. I knew it was irrational but I couldn’t deny the way I felt. I closed my eyes and whispered sweet words of love to myself as I attempted to dismiss the racing thoughts of judgment.
Why did I act like this?
As if I didn’t want emotional connection but the only true thing I wanted was honest love and true connection.
Why was it so hard for me to allow that for myself?
Why was it so hard to ask for it?
Did true love entail for me to ask or should it just be a given?
I felt grateful for the connection Elvis and I shared, regardless of it being fleeting. If it meant I got to feel a momentary sense of happiness and joy, that was the greatest gift to a woman like me. To make it last was another story.

I wrapped my arms around his neck then pulled him close into my body, hugging him goodbye for the meantime. How lovely, I didn’t know him a couple of days ago and now it felt I got lucky enough to catch a glimpse of such a mysterious man. Something about his reality passing through my own felt so otherworldly to me.

Oftentimes, I didn’t know my place in the world.
When I laid in bed alone, all of the noise in my mind came back, shooting their daggers of insecurity and unworthiness.
Did I say too much?
Did I overstep my boundaries?
Did I do it wrong?
Did he think little of me?
Did I scare him off by being too aggressive?
Who would want to be with me with this much rage?
With this amount of jealousy and pain?
With these amount of insecurities?
There I was again, feeling as if I had to be calmer and more in my feminine. I wondered, could I just be as I was and be loved regardless? Why did I find the apparent pain of others so beautiful and poetic but my own as demonic and ugly?

“Two fingers,” he whispered, rolling his r’s in that sexy European accent.
Normally I only wanted one finger, but I felt like being totally gone from the world that was in my mind so I allowed it. He made his way in, spreading me apart. One inch…two…finally, three. My eyes rolled back as I lost vision of my surroundings. I started pushing back but he grabbed me by the hips, pulling me closer and holding me down. The pulses in my body coursed through me… the pleasure felt unbearable.
I sat up and used the same force to take his hand out of my pussy, crying out in orgasmic bliss as I fell onto my back, gushing and heavily squirting all over him and the floor of his tent.

I moaned in anticipation. I moved my hips toward my heels, then went to anxiously pull his cock out—but first, I noticed there was a faint light still on in the kitchen. I peeked around the corner to find there was someone just on the other side of the wall. I looked back at William and started to undo his pants.

It hurt like hell but I pulled him in closer, needing to be filled. The pain from him was nothing like the pain in my mind. I arched my back and felt my eyes grow wet. He turned my face around, I closed my eyes as he kissed me. His breathing rhythm picked up until he released his cum inside of me, pumping and throbbing his moment of pleasure into my soul. Maybe I could borrow that fleeting bliss for all time?

“Yeah, I know him very well,” I said.
She asked me to share stories of him and how we met. My heart was always full of joy to do so, yet also held an air of loss.
“Wow. You two could’ve been a power couple,” she said.
I’ve played that thought throughout my head one too many times. It was wishful thinking. I would ruin anything I would have had with him. I was better at being single and a top of the line fuck buddy than I was at keeping something like a relationship together. Still, the feeling of loss pondered my mind, but before I got too deep in thought, God whispered to me and let me know it couldn’t have been any other way. The situation was perfect as it was right now in order for me to be who I was today.

What would it feel like to let go?
What would it feel like to not have the need to try to capture every person I met?
Although contradictory to my actions, I didn’t like who I became when I was clouded with lustful energy. It was as if when I was talking to people or on my walkabout, I wasn’t really ‘there.’ Not unless I chose awareness of my present surroundings, which I often didn’t if I felt sexually aroused.

There was enough room in the car so I had to sit next to him. For a second I was disappointed I wouldn’t be able to grind my ass over his cock, but then I thought I could just finger myself next to him, instead. I looked boldly into his eyes then slipped my hand into my shorts. He took a deep breath. I could tell he felt uncomfortable since we were sitting directly behind my friends, but he couldn’t hide the fact he wanted to watch.

Then, we trekked through the old Macetown which was an uninhabited gold mining settlement. It gave off a very eerie vibe, as if someone had recently died there. Along the trek, I met a guy with a Pink Floyd shirt so naturally I struck up a conversation with him for a bit. Finally, we made it down to civilization and went to the first café that we saw after I read they had ‘flat whites’ on the menu.

I stood up and stepped over his leg, gently brushing my heel up against his thigh while checking him out slowly. I was very delicate, subtly letting him know through physical touch that I wanted to feel more of him. He didn’t feel intimidated in my space whatsoever, not once jumping back or moving away from any of my advances. If anything, he moved closer, pushing in on my space.

“It’s an entirely different experience to view things from the eyes of a tourist versus the eyes of someone who lives there,” she said.

Along the way I was entertained through people naturally being as they were. Construction workers sang songs in sync as they worked on building the roof of a new house. An elderly couple struggled to wipe down their wet and muddy dogs with a towel before they were allowed in the car. Two little girls walked by, soaked to the bone from having had accidentally fallen into the river. There were couples sunbathing in their barely nothing swim attire in the middle of a public place, a random dude sleeping in a tree, three other dudes knocked out by the lake. Camper vans were set up cooking barbecue for the family and tourists took pictures of eucalyptus trees (myself, included).

He looked like Matthew McConaughey except with heavier bags underneath his eyes and curlier, thicker hair. His skin was dry and dirty. His shirt had stains on it, nearly looking like pure hiker trash. He took an under glance at me then pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. He casually looked away from me as he exhaled small puffs of smoke, grabbing the cigarette nonchalantly between his fingers. My knees grew a bit weak.
That’s the one, I thought to myself.

It was still early when I made it to the hut and I realistically could have pushed on to the road, but what was the rush? I met a day hiker from Invercargill who had come down from the pass because her fiancé had lost his phone, this being the fourth time she could recall. I decided to make food while she stared out the window in hopes of seeing him come down from Breast Hill. My dinner of choice was the usual white rice with butter and no salt. It was bland, but I was so hungry that it didn’t matter.

“Do you…” he began to ask me something, but at that point his cock was about 2’ away from my face and I was moments away from grabbing at it.
"Hello? Freyja?” he asked, waiting for my response as he tasseled his hair.
“Oh w-what? I’m sorry. I got distracted,” I said, acting coy and intimidated by his presence when I was anything but.

“Freyja,” Lenses whispered.
“Mm,” I moaned with my face muffled into the pillow.
Lenses woke up feeling anxious, saying she thought there was someone outside. “Did you maybe make plans with bartender?” she asked.
“No I didn’t, it’s probably for someone next door,” I said.
She opened the curtain and flashed her light outside. “Oh!” she gasped as a man ducked and shielded his eyes from the bright light. “Bartender,” she whispered.
“Fuck, goddamnit,” I said.
I knew this was my problem to fix. I grudgingly got out of bed, wearing only a shirt and my black panties. With sleepy eyes, I opened the balcony door. He apologized for waking us and for basically acting like a dick all day, explaining that his girlfriend was there and that he hoped I understood.
I closed the door behind me. “All good,” I said.
“I had to come see you,” he said.
“So you could fuck me before I leave?” I asked.

Hmm, which character do I want to play today? I thought to myself, Let’s try ‘damsel in distress.’
“Can you walk me to my room?” I asked, “I’m lost and can’t find it on my own in the dark.”
He appeared nervous in that moment, but didn’t hesitate to walk me. I asked what his plans were for the rest of the night.
“I’m actually on my way to see my girlfriend for an event,” he said.
“Sounds fun,” I said, ignoring the part where he mentioned he had a girlfriend.
He walked me to the edge of the driveway of where my building was. My room was still a few steps further.
“Can you please walk me the rest of the way?” I asked.
“I want to,” he said, “but this is as far as I think I should go.”
He was breaking at the seams, just needed to push him a little bit more.
“I would love it if you did,” I said. “You seem like you’re fun.” I pinched at his hip.
“You seem like you are, too,” he said, then took another nervous hit of his cigarette. “That’s the problem.”
He put it out then led the way to my doorstep. I stepped inside onto the carpeted floor and he started to follow but stopped again, choosing to stay on the other side of the glass door.
“Well aren’t you going to come in?” I asked as I tilted my head gently, now enveloped by the darkness of the room.

It seemed I kept receiving a perception of pissing men off for not being a certain way. A man would claim he was head over heels for me, wanting to develop something more to which I wouldn’t. I would be some sort of Angel or Goddess in their eyes, that was up until they walked in on me deep throating some random stranger. Then the veil would be ripped off. That’s how my life went.

He studied me with naughty thoughts running through his mind that were written all over his eyes. We walked down to the base of the river, wearing only my wool socks, I felt the soft dusty dirt clouding beneath my steps. I felt like a little girl sneaking out of my room to meet up with a stranger, strictly led by impulse.
He perched himself on a dry rock in the middle of the river then watched as I got undressed. I didn’t break eye contact with him nor did I retreat/hide my naked body. I made it known I wanted to be watched.

I normally said no to video interviews or podcasts since it felt very intimidating for me and not as intimate. Something about the camera being on me when I was fully clothed and trying to be professional seemed nearly impossible for me. Still, I went through with it. I definitely butchered it through stuttering and the inability to look into the camera, let alone the girl behind it.

“It energetically reminds me of where I took Ayahuasca in Peru,” I said.
“Ya ever think you’ll do it again?” Orange asked.
“I’m open to it,” I said, “I feel like I would only do it if something really drastic in my life happened and I was really struggling to see my way through it.” I took a bite of the noodles he made and pondered. “I’m honestly surprised I didn’t do anything drastic after everything that apparently happened with Voodoo this summer. Instead, I just cried it out and felt through it. At this point in my life I feel like I have a lot of tools in my box to use when I’m going through something like that.”

Eventually we got picked up by a young search and rescue guy who worked in the local area. He said he got called to do a rescue about 5 times a week!
“How many of them are American?” Orange asked.
“You know, not many. A lot of ‘em are from the Philippines,” he said. “They go out into the mountains and are unaware of how suddenly the weatha can shift, then they get caught up in it with not much of experience of navigating. They’re often not wearin’ the correct attire, eitha.”

“It’s not going to make a difference, it’s really not that far of a walk,” Orange said, “it’s only like 4 miles tomorrow.”
“That’s so far,” I said, “I don’t want to hike at all tomorrow if I have that option right now.”
“Well, I don’t want to hike down there right now, it’s too far,” he argued.
“No it’s not,” I combatted, “it’s only like four miles.”
He put his chin down and peeked from over the rim of his sunglasses giving me an intense under stare. “I focking hate you right now,” he said.

I preferred being my weird, silly self instead of the sexual Goddess. Energetically, it felt more honest to be such like a child, ceasing to care what I looked like but rather to feel every moment. In seduction, there was none of that. I found myself putting a lot of mental thought into what I would say/do in the midst of seducing someone, which took me directly out of the present moment.

We walked through the candy isle where we were able to choose and fill our own bags. I opened the bin to try some that looked appealing and Orange backed away from me.
“I’m not with you right now. I do not know you,” he said, “this is not America, Goldie. You can’t just take candy from the bin and eat it.”
“Well that’s what my mom and I used to do,” I said, “I mean how else will you know if you like it or not?”
I walked around the store poking at the squishiest of things for fun. Orange got us a big tub of mint ice cream and we ate it while we waited for our tramily to finish buying film for their cameras.

So, we all made our way to the ice cream truck before continuing. Orange ordered mint chip. The young girl in charge of making it added two mint cookies into the blender which caused it to clog and break. She had to take several minutes to deep clean everything and start over. It nearly broke again on her second try.
“Okay,” she said while wiping the sweat off her brow. “What would you like?” she asked me.
“Mint chip,” I said.

Nowadays, I found I barely even smiled when I dated someone. I laughed a lot when I met someone new, but it wasn’t real. It was only ever to get his dick. To me that was a red flag. I needed humor. I wanted someone I could laugh with, and I mean really, genuinely laugh. What a gift that would be.

My vision blurred with hot tears as I let out a breath of despair. “I’m sick of it,” I spoke softly, “I’m sick of trying again and again, opening up to a man only to have him run away from me once he gets to know me.” I swallowed my sorrow, stood up and took a step back to look at the heart then went to grab some lichen to make a bolder outline. To finish it off, I found thick beige colored sticks and made rays of light around the heart. As I looked at it, I saw my own heart—open and inviting, shining and whole—most of all, fragile… just waiting for people to step all over it.

I had dreamt that I deleted my OnlyFans which was an inspiring perception to receive. I felt I was being gifted with the Holy Spirit’s sight in the dream. He showed me that I would be okay without it and that it was silly to think otherwise. I was shown a timeline of what it would be like letting go of it and received help in understanding that it wasn’t the source of true wealth. At one point, I wanted to use it as a tool to express myself, but lately I’ve been wondering what that even means. I’ve been getting drawn away from feeling as if I needed to use my body to get money.

He sat in front of us, put his hands together in prayer as if trying to solve a problem.
“I-I-I’m sorry, but who ze fuck are you people?” he asked us in a thick European accent.
It was clear he was upset. I tried remembering the Czech girl’s name as best I could. “Oh, we’re friends of Krissa’s," I said.
“Mm, ah-huh, and how do you know her?” he interrogated.
“Well, you see, we just met,” I said, “she had seen us hitchhiking and invited us—“
“Wait. So let me make sure I’m hearing dis correctly. You ah hitchhikers?” he asked then moved his body into an upright position, clearly upset by our answer.

The experience also showed me to take a breather and simply communicate that I was feeling out of Spirit because truthfully, the feeling of overwhelm had nothing to do with him. Everyone in my group was experiencing the same feeling of cold and wet discomfort, they just weren’t expressing it outwardly. Sometimes I wished I could see through those moments faster, as I knew projecting the sadness wasn’t helping nor did it add any kind of benefit to the situation.

“I got hit!” Lenses said several seconds later.
“What?!” I shouted, realizing I almost shocked my own self. “How did it feel?!”
“It wa like pow!” she exclaimed while gesturing her hands in an explosive manner. “I tink I blackout. I don’ know fo how long.”

We walked around and discovered a small patch of someone’s farmland. We put our forearms on the wooden handrails of the fence and looked at the sheep lounging around in the grass. I absolutely loved being surrounded by vast mountain ridges in places I had never been with people I didn’t quite know.

As we were walking home together, I felt happy. I thought of Voodoo, I thought about how exhausted I felt this summer. I thought about the sadness in my eyes and the depletion of energy I felt. And today, I felt grateful that I had a full smile and eyes watering from so much joy. Instead of wiping tears of sadness from my face, I was wiping tears of happiness. I felt grateful I was surrounded with good people and that I was simply feeling good again. That in itself was a huge blessing and I was all of a sudden willing to take it day by day.

I made out images through the mist of barn houses with horses running around and naked trees that appeared as dancing sculptures. Seagulls flew at eye level then swooped down to the daisies alongside the country road. And, although not walking on sand, the energy of the area reminded that of the Oregon Coast.

The climb was difficult, however we paced ourselves very well, taking breaks often to look back at the view behind us which turned more magnificent each time we ascended a few feet. The clouds were nearly melted away and what was shown were massive mountain peaks, some of which had snow scattered throughout the peaks. Below, the lake appeared crystal clear and reflective, not a single ripple to be seen in the water. The streams flourished out of the edges as if it were mother earth’s veins kissing the foreign land.

I made sure to get undressed in front of him as I changed into dry clothes, returning the favor of when he took his shirt off in front of me.
I sat by the fire as I attempted to get warm. I got to talking with him and asked him to say something in Italian for me. He said something naughty, I knew it, because as he was speaking he was simultaneously fucking me with his eyes. He smiled and blushed while I stared at him intensely, as if he knew he just got caught in the act of being dirty.
“My turn,” I said with a mischievous smile.

I found myself laughing again because I could see the power play of the ego and how it hooked me so well. Most importantly, that I let it. The truth was, most people out on trail today were having a super shit time. Most people were hiking alone in the cold, wet rain and it was very challenging mentally. Crying about it, once again, had shown me that it wouldn’t change the circumstance itself. I had no control over the weather conditions, but I could choose to pray for peace of mind.

I continued with my mission of taking a piss so I squatted down right beside the tent.
Eventually Orange crawled out to go pee, too, and accidentally tripped and yelled, “Aw fock! I most definitely just stepped in your pee!”
I laughed out loud to the stars and said, “Now this is the most accurate representation of what camping is really like.”

When it came time for dessert, I asked the manager if he could make a hot fudge brownie sundae dessert. He said no and that it was an “ice cream sundae.”
I asked if I could have a sundae with a fudge brownie on the side and he goes, “No, ya can have what’s written on the menu with a tall side of shut the fock up.”
The room roared with laughter. He was really giving it to me hard. Jax and I wondered if he was gay.
When he left I said, “I think he is because my powers don’t work on gay men. They usually see straight through my shit.”
“Your powers?” he asked.
As Jax began eating again, he accidentally dropped some food on his inner thigh, very close to his cock.
As he went to grab it, I said, “Lemme help you get that.” I insinuated my body getting on my knees, implying I wanted to pick it up with my mouth for him.

Today, I received insights about how important it was not to idolize the world. There was no safety in something that was so fleeting. There wasn’t a such thing as true Love here. True unconditional Love was only experienced in Reality through God. It wasn’t to be looked at as something that was depressing, but quite the contrary. It brought comfort to my mind to know that only that Love could be supplied from the Creator. I could rest assured with the awareness that the experience of a body in a world could flow by with ease, for it was nothing more than dust passing in the wind.

“I feel insecure that I won’t ever meet someone who could adhere to the things I desire in a relationship and that I will continuously be perceived as the woman who asks for too much,” I said, “I feel insecure that maybe I am asking for too much and that I keep trying for something that doesn’t exist.”
I became childlike in my demeanor. I pulled my legs into my chest, expressing that I felt closed off and uncomfortable in my body.
“It would be nice if I could just be open with men and not have them use those things against me,” I expressed.
I had a romantic fantasy of how I wanted things to be, yet sometimes when I looked back on my past I felt as if I only had a string of shitty, broken relationships that led to a dead end. All I apparently ever wanted was that ‘happily ever after' that was just… simple. I became teary eyed as I reminisced of past hurt while simultaneously longing for true love.
I gulped down the sorrow and said, “Ready for the climb?”

The dirt and rocks caused him to start slipping down the cliff. He grabbed hold of a flimsy tree and started crawling his way back up, beet red in the face by the time he made it up. His body bruised and his legs bleeding. I started laughing hysterically, that crazy kine laughter where I was actually scared shitless.
“I don’t want to die today,” I said through clenched teeth.

I had a hard time enjoying the views for the better part of the morning because of it, but once I made it to the summit, I realized how nothing could capture this. Not National Geographic through the highest definition television, nor writing a book that gave the most detailed description of rock faces and mountain crevices. The raw undergoing of the actual physical adventure itself was the ultimate experience. For the individual person to walk it with their own two feet, to burn through the pain, to conquer the thoughts that were telling them to turn around and go to a cozy and safe place, instead. The inner goal was to push those thoughts aside and make it up a climb that was very technical and challenging, all just for the moment of having the mountain air kiss their rosy cheeks and for the life giving breath one received reaching the summit.

“It’s banned in my country,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, “isn’t it all natural?”
“Yes, exactly,” he said, “it has so many benefits. It curbs your appetite, takes the soreness away from your muscles, uplifts your mood, gives you clarity of mind—and, it’s natural. The government wouldn’t make any money off of that.”
I was sold. I took it the way Orange would take it which was by dumping a scoop into my mouth and swallowing it with some water. It tasted terrible and I nearly coughed it up.
Twenty minutes in, all and any of the pain I previously experienced in my legs immediately dissipated. It was better than any over-the-counter drug I took.

I learned so much from being alone, I came to recognize that every time. There was no one there to watch me if I fell. There was no one to save me if it came down to it. Something about knowing there was someone just around the corner or in my general vicinity took the main excitement away from me. I noticed the way solitude time helped me grow mentally in my day to day life as well. It helped teach my mind that I was capable of surpassing what I considered obstacles with the simplicity of having faith in myself.

“We are dreamers. When you’re sitting around a crackling bonfire and you look up at the stars, you find you will dream. We humans dream just the same, regardless of the different cultures we come from.”

“I know what you mean about feeling like it’s hard for you to come back into civilization after tramping,” he said, “when you’re on trail, you’re constantly planning out your safety through small things such as where your water source will be or how to conserve your energy so you don’t burn out. You’re planning out how to cross a river safely and watching your foot placement for where you step so you don’t roll your ankle. You’re feeling the change in weather patterns and checking out if your camping space is secure. Every little thing is being subconsciously planned out, you’re making all these quick decisions and mental notes in every moment all throughout the day. And then you come back into civilization and everything is already planned out for you. There are signs for everything. Stop here, slow down there, turn here, buy food here. You don’t really have to think, or at least not as much, and your body kind of goes into this state of shock because it’s so used to thinking for itself and doing everything on its own. You’re so used to using your brain on trail throughout the day and when you come back to civilization and you don’t have to, it’s sort of like this internal battle. It’s a way to dumb you down.”

The tall grasses in front of us were covered in dew droplets and reflections of the two of us. I took a breath. I knew both of us could feel the tension in the air. I desperately wanted to speak what was on my mind. I felt scared, yet the longing to be ready for the ‘hard conversations’ was stronger than my fear of them. I felt into the truth—that I was only speaking to myself.

We made it down to the small village of Anakiwa. We road walked a little bit. There were water sports programs occurring as we trekked alongside the water, young students practicing how to kayak and row in the water. Young teenagers threw rounded rocks into the sea and watched as the water rippled.

I was living in two separate worlds. It was as though I was watching a movie of the character ‘Goda’ play out nonsense while my higher self desired for me to have something deeper. It was as though I had a vision of how I wanted my future to look, similar to that of Little House on the Prairie, yet I was watching as I finished playing out the patterns first—sex, the unhealthy mind games, the idolization of my body, while simultaneously trusting that there was something great beyond all that meaninglessness. It was as if I was allowing myself to walk through the storm with the knowing I would come out bearing gifts. I was not out of place in any way, despite the way the perception made it look as if it often carried chaos and heaviness. Beneath it was Heaven. Through it was clarity.

The mountains grew superimposed with a blueish grey haze. The sun casted a heavenly ray into the sea, shining its white light upon the mountain ridges. The rays glistened a golden glow onto the shimmering sea as a boat in the distance made its way towards us.

We chose a spot that had a heart drawn out with white pebbles. We laid down on the rounded grey rocks that were being kept warm by the sun. After some time, I lifted my head up to the view of the waves gently crashing into the shore. A woman was laying down on her back reading a book and a couple behind us was sitting on the bench cuddled up. Romance was in the air.

Right before he dropped us off in Kaikōura, he pointed to a whale watching tour agency and said, “Get ya boyfriend back there to pay to take you out on a helicopta ride so you can fly out and see the whales."
I turned around to Orange and shot him a smile. Both of us blushed and didn’t say anything.
We arrived to Kaikōura and walked around the local area. We saw backpackers/travelers come off the buses, there were seagulls flying around the vicinity and mountains surrounding the area. We went towards the sea and plopped down on the rounded rocks just above the shoreline.

“What does Te Araroa mean?” I asked.
“The Long Path,” he said.
“What inspired you to do it?”
“My life was shit. I was always drawn to the wilderness but I never had the courage to just go. Until one day I did.”

It was a quick flight into Christchurch where Orange was meeting me. We ended up arriving 20 minutes early. I walked out the gate and spotted him immediately in his bright new Orange barefoot shoes. I ran in for a hug and both of us were in shock. All we could say was “woah.” Our faces flushed and our eyes were wide.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” he said.
“I can’t believe I’m here, either!” I exclaimed.
We caught up lightly as I waited for my baggage to show up on the belt. The belt stopped moving. The baggage didn’t arrive.