Over the weekend, we went out to the desert to ride dirt bikes. A couple of my best friends and a big group of people I’d met briefly in the past or not at all. I haven’t ever really ridden before. It was so much fun.

We went to Joshua Tree. It was hot during the day and cold at night. The sunset was absolutely stunning as we all ripped around on bikes and took photos to celebrate a brand, Curren’s Garage, created to honor the life and legacy of Curren, the little brother of two of the women on the trip.

Curren tragically passed away a couple of years ago. I didn’t know him, but he seemed like an absolute legend, a mechanic who loved dirt bikes, tinkering in the garage, surfing. Our night in the desert celebrating Curren was such a beautiful experience to be a part of.

We made a fire and drank mezcal and ate delicious food. I woke up in my tent at dawn. Beyond the veil of my tent soared a piercing red sky, pale purple mountains, and a distant white sun. The sky became so blue. We had breakfast and coffee and made our way home, some of us to LA, the rest to San Diego.

It hurt a little more yesterday, the pain of missing her. That’s what happens when I’m tired, a little beat up. I wanna be held. I want somebody to hold. Not just anybody. But the girl I’d spent the last year holding.

I was with my best friend driving home to LA. Laughs and silence and In-N-Out, a tired drive. I told myself not to believe my more negative thoughts, being in a lower mood.

I hurt still in the quieter moments. It still feels fresh, the breakup. She’s in my dreams, in my thoughts. I’m doing my best to distract myself, staying busy. I’m also trying not to fight the emotions. This will take time. It feels good to hurt like this. I guess the wound starts to scab over eventually. A scab over my heart, the memories, memories I love.

I am scared. In the moments I feel sort of alone inside of me; it’s still hard to believe, everything. There are more tears. I cried today, sweet, sweet tears. It feels good to let go of the illusion of control, and let the more trying thoughts have their way. I’m doing okay. It just hurts a bit more today.

This morning I was listening to music in the gym, and a song came on, her favorite artist, a new album that we listened to in September driving from Wolfeboro, New Hampshire to Boston in a storm. She would sing that song at home while playing the guitar, and I would sit and listen or go about my business and listen. She plays and sings so beautifully. When the song came on this morning I quickly skipped it. Emotion rushed through me. Then I couldn’t get it out of my head, and when I thought of it I quickly tried to change the thought. But then I was folding laundry, and I started to cry, and instead of fighting the song I let it in, surrendered, let it have its way; the tears felt good, needed, the memory beautiful, not one I want to fight, as the memories are a part of me, all the pain and mystery, instead of shutting down my history, I’ll continue to embrace it with a heart full of love. It’s such a beautiful song, why would I push it away.

I’m doing well. It just hurts a bit more today.