Woke Up In A Friends Guest Room This Morning. Im Thankful For Friends Who Let Me Stay In Their Home Last

Woke up in a friend’s guest room this morning. I’m thankful for friends who let me stay in their home last minute. I am just outside of Greenville. I’m wondering how many more trips to this place I have to take before I am without a rush of emotions. I am seeing different landmarks for the first time each time I come back. When I came back for the first time a few weeks ago, it was a quick one-night stay to see a play. It was a rushed trip. I hit the downtown highlights, visited my old apartment, went to the Swamp Rabbit. I sobbed downtown with my mom and sister awkwardly not knowing what to do with me. If you’ve made it this far in the post, you probably read that post too.

I wake up this morning, I get on i85. I’m heading in the opposite direction. To Asheville.

It’s an overcast day.

That’s how I remember you, Greenville. I cry.

I’m in Spartanburg now on my way to Asheville. There’s this little coffee shop/bookstore with a cat I would visit. I stopped there on my way. A few weeks ago, I didn’t get a classic vanilla latte at these fancy shops - they only taste this way here. There’s no way I can describe it, it’s a hot vanilla latte, but it tastes like the Upstate. It’s wonderful. I hate admitting when there is something I miss.

(TW: ed mention in this paragraph) The illusion of it all hit me this morning. The curated version of this place - all the old industrial downtowns have been renovated into the perfect Instagram background. My friend is a Doctor, so her luxury apartment is meticulously clean and nice, even the towel I dried off this morning was heavy and fancy. The apartment community is constructed like the resorts I see when I’m in Myrtle. She left a key out for me as her and her fiancé are out to dinner with friends. The pictures they post have that hipster perfect background. I am faced once again with the reality that I THOUGHT I would be living here. It hurt a little bit thinking maybe if things were different, maybe… but no. I drove on i85 an I remember my real life. My work. I remembered the group trying to talk me into going on Ozempic- join their little pact. I remember the interrogations. I remembered their twisted version of religion - mandatory lunch break “Bible Studies” (aka getting as much vulnerable personal information they could) I remember my eating disorder coming back during that time. I remember the heartbreak I’m still not over. The memories flash and I put them away the best I can. No no no. The photo op curated version of this place isn’t real. No.

I am getting lunch at a place I desperately miss in a moment. Then I’m off to Pisgah. My escape from all of this back in the day. My escape today.

If you have curly hair, don’t go out on the beach without a way to secure it. I’ll be dealing with this mess later for sure. I was directing and taking pictures at a photoshoot today. That Lowcountry summer heat, humidity, and heavy winds took it out of me today. I took this selfie before it got too rough on my end. On a side note, it’s kinda crazy how a proper summer back at home literally changes the way I look. Usually, the sun will bring a lot of freckles out and turn my hair super blonde. I haven’t seen myself like this since before Greenville.

I often have a hard time picking favorites, especially when it comes to nature… but, the Balsam Trail at Mt. Mitchell is absolutely my favorite I’ve hiked in the Appalachians. It’s the most unique trail - completely different from anything you’d ever see in this region of the world. Stepping from the peak of the tallest mountain in the Appalachians, and into the threshold of the Balsam Trail - it teleports you. The fog you see in the background is no fog, we’re in a cloud 6,684 ft in the sky. Pisgah National Forest has a huge piece of my heart.

My Pothos vine is a reminder of the passage of time. I bought this plant in Greenville a year and a half ago - one of my first plants to decorate my apartment. Back then, it was just a few leaves sticking out of a pot, now it has grown long vines reaching to the floor.

Blue Ridge Parkway near Mount Mitchell.

Following that sunset west. I’m going to the mountains.