find me in the drift

Most of the Time | Turnover

You can find me drifting slowly sinking beneath the sea
Try to catch my breath, a silent struggle drowned in my apathy
Yeah I’m still caught up in all the things I know I’ll never be
Erase me

You won’t find me
Because I don’t know where I am myself you see
I’ve been waiting for so long and hoping that I’d see
A sign to point me in the right direction
Where I am the signs have been torn down
No I won’t be found

Most of the time, I’m hopelessly lost
Most of the time, I’m between the tracks
Most of the time, you’ll find me drifting
Most of the time, I’m never coming back

Pacific Rim 2

John Boyega: You were there when my father died. Was there anything he said before the end?

Mako Mori: He said “you can always find me in the Drift.”

John Boyega: *sniffles* God, that’s so…

Mako Mori: I can find him. Me. He was talking to me.

okay i know it’s been two years and i should probably let it go but. why the fuck wasn’t pacific rim nominated for best score at the oscars. have you heard the pacific rim soundtrack. that shit goes hard as hell. i listen to that and i’m ready to fight these extradimensional sea aliens no questions asked. don’t even need a jaeger i’ll use my goddamn fists. where was the damn oscar cynthia

Find Me In The Drift // onehalfakindredsoul

“Some things have changed since your day Ranger.”

“And some things stayed exactly the same. The new recruits are a bit hot headed? Like I was?” Steve answered with a grin, Stacker exhaling softly and fixing him with a nonplussed look. Undoubtedly Marshal was ever the same as far as he could tell and in a way he found it a comfort after such an absence. Even a self inflicted exile as his was.

Yet this was home no matter what differences had come about in the few years he has disappeared down the rabbit hole to protect himself. Honestly he wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back at all but the prospect of piloting a Mark 4 and being utterly discontent with his life he had tentatively agreed to Stacker’s offer to see the new recruits with no promises though Patriot Hammer was essentially his if he wanted her.

Following the Marshal down to the simulation room the familiar scent of oil and sea gave him a sense of longing that hit him deep in his gut, a shudder on pain begging to poke through if he thought too hard. Instead he tried to push himself outside his mind to watch three of the newer prospects piloting on their simulators on the screen in front of him, the obviously tall blond with a hint of a smirk catching his attention with his drop kill numbers.


“I know we’ve already picked out you candidates but I thought you’d want to see how the simulations have improved. Thor, there, actually just challenged one of your previous kills and won it seems which means it’s the end of his day. He needs to be pulled out.”

Steve scrunched his nose at not being able to watch him further but he’d have to suffice with a meet and watching video later. He had to see how he defeated Hammerjaw because he just couldn’t imagine he had done it the same way he had all those years ago.

dear november,

i am sorry half of you has passed. i’m not good at keeping you close; you and i, we are like two sides of a city divided- both ruined equally, but wishing for more still. its been 4 years, and i’m still trying to gather the pieces, but every gash still hurts in my ribs. do you remember how it hurt; surviving.

you are a reminder; unwanted, and i am sorry for having given you this name. i am sorry i can never forget how i couldn’t eat or drink anything for two weeks. i am sorry for staining you in my mother’s tears. i am sorry that this is all you’ll ever be to me. 

please bring me the strength to be, and not find myself drifting away, yet another day- how do i say that i do not have the luxury anymore. i am empty, yet living, yet wishing, but making nothing of it. i’m rising, and sinking, and hurting yet again. 

dear november, please end my agony- give me the chills that one stores in their spines, and the hands to hold it up straight. i am not weak, but i am faltering yet again; this difficulty in breathing is killing me, but the earth still spins- even unwillingly, and i am no different. 

always in grief unfortunately,

- s


Your memory is all I have,
and sometimes it takes me far away;
I find myself drifting off,
to another place, to a different day.

I wake up in the mornings,
and I reach across our bed,
to a coldness, there beside me,
where you used to rest your head.

Your morning smiles were beautiful,
your smiles were in your eyes;
radiant and shining,
summer roses in your sighs.

Sometimes, I go out walking,
and your hand is held in mine,
a ghost hand gently touching,
sending tingles down my spine.

I know you’ll never leave me,
Its your love that drives me on,
and I know I’ll always wake up,
with your smile to light the morn.

Ambrose Harte
Scattered Thoughts