Words use to follow me when there was red residue on my lips and liquid sloshing around my glass. But then I stopped drinking. Words use to follow me when the creaking of the inside of the moving bus became a soothing lull and I fell deep into daydreams when I was lucky enough to … Continue reading sixteen.
I was told that when a succulents’ turgid leaves start to die, you pick them. When the leaves are dying, the succulent starts to send most of its nutrients to the dying leaves in an attempt to revive them, leaving the healthy ones to wilt. If there is one thing I have fashioned these past … Continue reading sf, chapter five
I tried to run to a place I had never met before But the longer I stayed The more I had come to find I had been home all along. -journal Continue reading home in the redwoods.
The problem with my life is that I’m not the competitive type. And in life, you learn that if you don’t step in, they’ll force you to tap out. My uncle was really drunk at my bat mitzvah and started throwing Jordan almonds at me while I was doing my grand piano piece. Wasn’t able … Continue reading V, chapter four.
I grew up reading letters from others about how lonely, lonely can get. What they didn’t tell me was how much I would enjoy it. They didn’t tell me that I would prefer it. That it comforted me, that it let me stay in my own comfort of mind. No one told me that loneliness … Continue reading sf, chapter three | one year edition
What I can’t tell my mother is that I ate half of a slice of pizza tonight. That I don’t want to be anything when I grow up. That I don’t want to choose between myself and myself with a partner. Because they are two different selves. That I don’t want to ever cut my … Continue reading What I can’t tell my mother.
