You And I Were Stranded. Trapped, In The School’s Gymnasium. The Rain Was Starting To Coming Down,

We were made for connection, us, it's what makes us human. The crook of my shoulder is a resting place for your weary head, your hand fits snug in mine and it might seem silly to say but we fit together like puzzle pieces when we cuddle, arms around my waist, you're fast asleep while I admire the details of your face. Falling into you would be easy— so easy, it would be like breathing. Therefore I think I deserve some credit, for resisting your outstretched hand, even when you look so kind, I still have no clue if its genuine, but you look so inviting under these lights.

—Camille Lee, falling into you

I'm a long way from the girl who sat under the mango tree, in the back of the school and listen to cars passing by on the highway after school. She would close her eyes and pretend the sound of the cars on the road were the sound of waves crashing on the shoreline. She had the wildest and most vivid imagination. I look at her now in photos and memories, and I realize, I'm not that kid anymore, I'm not. The magic of the world isn't held in my eyes anymore.

—Camille Lee, 4:30 p.m.

I’ve still got dance moves, like a friend I no longer talk to. Someone I’ve lost contact with, someone I’ve missed, someone I’ve contemplated reaching out to, to ask “How are you?” but I haven’t found the courage. When there’s a new season of  Bongou Stray Dogs, and she isn’t someone I can just call anymore, what do I do? When my brother is excited about the new Sonic the hedgehog movie, are you too? After all this time, I’ve written so many letters in my mind to tell you I’d still want you to be my friend but would you like to be mine? 

How are things at that art school you got into? Did you make new friends who have the same beliefs as you? I know that’s what inadvertently divided us, and from what I heard you have someone who you can confide in and trust— to hold the same values as you. I just wish you were a little greedy and held on to both what you believed in and me too and I just wish I was a little rude, rude enough to ask you, even after everything, “Do you want to still be my friend too?”

—Camille Lee, "I miss you" excerpt taken from the "Letters I never sent" poetry collection.

I try not to fall in love. I really do, because I know that I'll think about them, those things that will make it hard to forget. The curve of his back, the outline of his hips, the way his necklace falls at the base of his neck, the way its only something I can admire when his back is turned, because he likes to tuck his necklaces inside his T-shirt, the matching bracelet hangs off his wrist and sparkles in the light the way his eyes do when morning comes the next day. I have his sleepy smile when I'm the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes, memorized, and his low playful drawl to"take a picture, it'll last longer," before he scoops me up in his arms with the strength of someone who had definitely-been-awake-for-a-while and I'll remember it all. These are the things, the things I'll think of when you're gone, so I try my best not to fall in love.

—Camille Lee, I'll remember everything

Love is extensively and excessively patient with me, but that's how I know love will never run out of it with me. Love messages everyday at lunch “did you eat?” because love knows I’ll forget when I’m busy. Love holds my hand when the doctor administers the needle and love carries my things after the appointment because they’re a ‘gentlemen’. Love always insists they carry the bags with me when it gets heavy. Love takes great care to place their hand on my left shoulder, to cradle me closer, the pain in my right arm subsides a little quicker. Love held me in a doctor's office and they dried my tears, after I cried over little teeny tiny, baby needles.

— Camille Lee, love is the one who holds my hand

Love is the one who holds the ladder when I climb up to change the curtains. Love is the one that insists "let me do it, it's dangerous." but love is afraid of heights and holds the ladder with a white knuckle grip, despite the fall only being three feet deep. "It's still a long way to fall." Love is knowing I must be the one to change the curtains no matter what love says because love is still deathly afraid of heights, and love is mine to protect as much as I am theirs.

— Camille Lee, love is the one who holds the ladder

I've desired this 'strength' they've talked of all my life, too weak to cope, too fragile to hold my own and so sensitive. Versatility was something elusive to me and I can't find it in me to truly focus on what's happening around me, like watching a movie. Dazed, stumbling through a haze, going through the motions, ignoring the commotion taking place outside of my own destruction. Why wasn't I born with one of those 'strong personalities' my mother spoke of? Can't I create it from scratch? Kneed it like dough, bake it like cake, mold it from clay, carve it into and out of stone. Were some of you just born at home in your own skin? You look down your nose most assuredly, constantly at me, yet I still look for your empathy and understanding foolishly, hoping one day you'd finally see me.

—Camille Lee, strong personalities

She's sickenly sweet like honey with her crooked teeth, her breath smells like candy and her pretty stray eyelash, decorates her cheeks. She's a Venus fly trap. She's got stickers in her hair, glitter on her face and paint on her shoes. She gives her heart away like she has nothing to lose. She's the kind to make wishes on dandelions and to believe that when the stars align she can communicate with the divine in her dreams. We drove out to a field, laid under her "special tree" and watched the tall grass sway in the sunlight. It was something out of a movie. Do I want to be her or do I want to be with her? I couldn't pull it apart without leaving behind spider webs of her and I, traces of each other, like perfume clinging to a sweater I haven't worn in months. She's like a dream.

—Camille Lee, dream girl

I dreamt of you last night, you and I talked so much, more than we do in real life, it was nice. I don't remember what we said, I think all we did was fight as we usually did, but still it was nice, because I got to talk to you again last night.

—Camille Lee, it was nice to talk to you

You have a beautiful talent for writing. May you always continue to write so passionately and may you continue writing in that beautiful manner that somehow never ceases to leave me in awe. Love life and ascend dear friend! Rooting for you and wishing you all the best, dearest Camille.

Oh my gosh🥺 <3 this was so incredibly sweet of you to say🤧 thank you anon 💞 that was beautiful, I'm honoured🥺 I'll come back to read your kind words every time I feel doubt towards my ability to write. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I'll cherish your words always and wishing you all the best as well. —Camille Lee 🎀

do you think you can write something using the words iridescent💎 or fractal~🌈✨?" 👀

I closed my eyes as I felt the warm water on my skin, cascading through my hair, down my neck and down my back. I run my palms over my damp hair and I open my eyes to see the way the sunlight catches the water from the showerhead, through the bathroom window. I smile as I think to myself it looks like a mini waterfall, magical, ethereal and otherworldly. Like little tiny fairies should be fluttering around the water that seems to sparkle at this time of day. Iridescent shampoo bubbles dance off the tiled walls and pop. In the stillness and silence, I remember living isn't only in the grand, but also in the quietness of a bath after a long hard day.

—Camille Lee, iridescent shampoo bubbles