I used to derive a sick sort of masochistic pleasure from re-reading my old poetry. It was something I used to punish myself with, in a paradoxical way. "Look at how good you were. Look at you now." And yet... "Look at how awful you were. You haven't changed." And I thought that's how it… Continue reading hello, old me
There's a big part of me that wants to hide away from the world. I've thought about it a lot. I'd live in a small apartment with everything I'd need; lots of blankets and stuffed animals to keep me company, lots of big shirts to stay comfy, and a completely full fridge with enough chocolate… Continue reading my heart
One of my favorite types of houses are those big, white suburban houses. Coastal with big windows to allow for good lighting and French doors, and a nice large porch. I imagine myself living there in some northern state with my husband who's a lawyer, my 2.5 kids, and my cat and my dog. The… Continue reading houses
i've had this blasted blog for 3 years now i move through life with catalogued motions; conscious beats of my heart punctuated with beatings of my brain
death beware of the allure of the void; it ends when you do, and then it begins.
sad time is passing imperceptibly slowly; i am pondering what a thousand ruminating minds have pondered before. (i wonder if they've thought of me as well.)
@mossyemerald my words follow a rhythm, short, stiff and steady; why must i accompany your melody? (but i am nothing without it.)