When A Friend Is Grieving

I want to message her every day to tell her I love her.

I want to message her every day to say if there was anything she needed, let me know.

I want to message her every day to tell her how amazing she is and that she is the legacy of her parents who I've never met.

I want to message her every day.

But I don't.

I message her to tell her I love her.

I tell her I think about her daily, and that she need only to think of me when she has the capacity.

I tell her I'm here, and that she doesn't have to be here until she's done being every where else she needs to be.

I tell her I can talk about my strange romance if she wants a distraction.

I tell her my pay weeks.

I tell her she can give me the seen or leave my messages unopened for as long as she wants.

Then I leave it.

I want to message her every day.

The Point: Outsider At Home

I'm trying to write about my recent visit to Samoa.

I'm trying to write about the feeling of returning home but also feeling like a foreigner and a tourist, looking at Samoa as an outsider.

I'm trying to write about feeling nostalgic for a place I don't recognise anymore.

I'm trying to write about I've thought of Samoa as home but when someone asked me, where are you from? I answered, New Zealand.

I'm trying to write about how I feel like I belong in Samoa, without having to prove anything, but also that in order to feel like Samoa is home properly, I have to give, serve, tautua.

I want to give, I want to go back, I want Samoa to be familiar again.

I want to know Samoa and I want Samoa to know me too.

I'm trying to write all of this... so here is my brainstorm.