savabz savabz

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Savannah Abrishamchian  Different likes different.

I used to be afraid of the ocean. I used to be afraid of diving into any sort of unknown. It was only a few years ago that I decided "no" and "cannot" are not in my vocabulary.
Today, my whole world came to celebrate me. They screamed for me at the top of their lungs. They cried until it stained their faces. They hugged me as tight as you hug someone when you say goodbye or see you later. The kind of hug that wraps a ribbon around your whole body. The kind of hug someone gives you when they think you are going so far--as far as outer space. They airplaned, trained, and automobiled all the way for me and my glory. This day and my smile would have not been as bright and gold without them. I used to be afraid of the ocean, but I have never been afraid of heights. To conclude my surreal joy for this one fine day, I will leave you with a poem. This one is for San Diego:
life lives on the rocks
in the igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic
my metamorphosis
my erosion
smooth or
polish
a sprinkle
my lagoon
salt water stretch
separator of sea
you will find me
on the
edges of the universe
reaching and reaching
and reaching
for the center

This that I got, I got, I got, I got. #findmeatspotify

Something blue: SD nights are coming to a bittersweet end. Thankful for this lady who has let me snap her since '08. #mamagonnabefine

New headshots. (Lol jk maybe)

Haven't changed a tad...

Good news for people who love bad news.

The future is:
A. Bright
B. Stormy
C. Idk
D. A and a little bit of B
E. All of the above

Dear Mom,

I recently wrote a story about how strong you made me. I read it aloud in my Nonfiction class and I cried. It starts off like this:

She was turquoise. An opaque blue-to-green or green-to-blue mineral that some might mistake for mint, teal, or aqua. But no, she was turquoise. She was other things, too. She was Broadway. She was coffee. She was the piano. She was bread and butter. She was "I'll just have water with lemon." I suppose I am some of these things, too.
She always called me her butterfly. I never really knew why or how this came about, but I was okay with it. Who wouldn't want to be the thing that flutters and flies?
For some reason, I can't recall my first memory of her. I just picture her there, carrying me at the hip longer than most mothers do. Attached to her shoulders. Legs wrapped around the ribs and abdomen. Arms folded around, making a necklace out of my skin just for her. If I was not being held, I was looking up to her or looking for her--the way you look up at tall buildings or for keys that go missing. As a child, I believed her body was a nest for me and that I would always have a home here.
I knew I had finally made it--I had finally been doing alright once my mom looked at me yesterday, less than twenty days away from college graduation, and said, "You have blossomed into a flower--into a butterfly. No, you're actually a tree. You're a palm tree. You're everywhere."
I suppose she is some of these things, too.
Love,
Nana

Ferocious.

End of the week got me like slouchy slouch, arms to the side. Don't forget to peep Charlie's new hit, Sun Rays, off of his surprise album, High Tops. #linkinbio #jk #butidbuyit

But you just needed a hand.

Don't be shady.

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