Posts to Read


“Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.”  -- STEPHEN KING

[featured on thank you for the tragedy]
on what enough means in a relationship
We were utter opposites brought together by the sly call of fate: unanticipated, surreptitious and all. In time, we had begun baring our souls and vessels, emptying every last drop of ourselves so that we could contain the other. We loved with a love that could bring stars to their knees, a great collision of dusty and fiery dispositions. How is it that something like that can come to an end and yet, the world still spins on its axis? 

on friendships
"A little bit fucked up in the head" was the phrase most of us identified with and yet, there we were -- in a room where there was no judgement, just an exchanging and understanding of stories, a trade of hearts and souls.

on self-forgiveness and liberation

I am blue today, blue like the sky, blue like the ocean, blue like the encapsulating sense of freedom that horizons and clouds of puff bring. Standing on cushiony sand looking out onto the horizon, there is liberation in the heart of this castaway, chains breaking and snapping, thorns peeling and dying.

on fleeting moments

As the clouds storm the sky, the moment flees into the dusk, into stars studding a dark, desolate canvas, and as they dance in the sky, flickering, they become nothing but memories left to be relived.

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