I Did The Thing


And that’s my face of excitement.

I blogged for 30 days, which wasn’t as challenging as I thought it was going to be. I’m going to do it for 30 more, and try to produce content I’m proud of instead of recycling old things and being lazy.

On that note, I’m going to wrap this up and start writing a different post because I need to rant about a former roommate and get real vulgar about it.

Thanks for the encouragement, everyone! It’s been fun.



“One splendid summer afternoon Kaspar realized he had never been happier in his life or both of his lives, past and present. Not fireworks-orgasms-and-champagne happy, but on waking in the morning he was glad almost every single day to be exactly where he was. He had never before experienced the feeling of genuine, constant well-being and it was a true revelation. The longer the satisfaction continued, the less he thought about his previous life as a mechanic and the extraordinary things he’d once seen and been able to do. Misery may love company but happiness is content to be alone. The funny irony of his existence now was, as long as he was this happy and content with his lot, Kaspar didn’t need to make much of an effort to “walk away” from his mechanic’s life because now he was sated with this one both in mind and heart.”
― Jonathan Carroll, Bathing the Lion

It was a hard year. One hell of a fucking year, leaving one life behind and starting another. But I made it. I’m finally at that point– happy.

Sometimes I Hate Social Media

I hadn’t looked at those pictures in months. I had no reason or desire to, and
when I saw them today, they made me sick.
Maybe you couldn’t see it, but I could;
that wasn’t me in the photographs. At least not the me you know now.

There was so much worry behind my eyes. Exhaustion.
You saw a smile, but what you couldn’t see were the eggshells on which I walked for months. I wasn’t alone, but I was lonely. I was afraid. I was sadder than I’ve ever been.

When I look at the photographs now, it feels like someone else lived that life.
It couldn’t have possibly been me,
not this me,
not who I am today, in this moment.

Because now I laugh too much to be that sad.
Now I’m mostly alone, but not lonely.
And I’m not scared anymore,
because I know you’ve got me.

We’ve got this.

Photographs can lie, sometimes.
But you are my truth.
You are the best thing.

More Issues Than Vogue

I’m realizing I have a lot of trust issues.
I haven’t always been like this, though…
In fact, I haven’t ever been like this.

But I’ve finally reached the point where I’m just so tired of being let down in a major way by everyone I love. I’m tired of being hurt in some way so everyone else can feel better.
And I’m scared. Because as much as I like to tell myself I’m the strongest person I know, I’ve realized I can’t go through it again.

Please be the one that surprises me.
I desperately need something to be good.


Also Old


Something about how I still look for your face in everyone else’s, or
Something about how I still shout “I miss you” into the void.
“Write something,”
Everyone says,
“Write something,”
But all I can think about is the way you said my name.
So I’ll write something about how I am more banned book than girl,
Something about how miles away feels too close now,
Something about never wanting to hold a hand again.
(But I am not, and it is not, and I do.)

This is the best I can do.
Something about how my love crossed an ocean,
And something about how you never wanted it to travel there in the first place.

Everything Changes.

I sit outside in a red chair in the backyard of the house I grew up in.
Did this street get smaller, or is it me that has grown? So much has changed. I light a cigarette. I started smoking again and I wonder if you would approve.
I laugh when I remember you’re the only person who never gave me shit for anything I chose to do.

My mom told me someone on the news said more acorns in the fall means a bad winter is coming. I shiver just thinking about it. I remember the conversation you and I had about hibernating; little bears spending winter under the covers. I remember how we prayed for spring.

It’s so quiet here. The only sounds come from squirrels and birds, occasionally an unhappy dog barking somewhere in the distance. For a while I thought this place was just what I needed, but I miss the hum of the city, and four lane highways.
“We could both go to the countryside,” you told me once,
“it will help us get better.”

I thought I missed this place, this tiny house and these quiet streets. It’s warm tonight and I can smell the lake in the air. Nothing is quite how I remember it, but isn’t that how it always goes? And I wonder if you’re feeling the same disconnect with the place in which you grew up. I hope you’re not. If one of us gets better, I hope it’s you.

As I lean down to put out my cigarette, I notice it- an abundance of acorns. It’s going to be a long winter, and I know I’ll never make it here. Because this isn’t my home anymore, it never was.
Neither were you.

Once again, this is something super old. Because the end of the month is hard and my two favorite beating hearts aren’t feeling well and tomorrow is a holiday and I’m full of dread and longing. Please enjoy your turkey tomorrow. I’m thankful for you. 


November 22

“Suddenly for no earthly reason I felt immensely sorry for him and longed to say something real, something with wings and a heart, but the birds I wanted settled on my shoulders and head only later when I was alone and not in need of words.”
― Vladimir Nabokov

Isn’t that how it always goes?
I’m sorry, but today was shit and I just don’t have words.
I’ll be back tomorrow.


Someone has taken your place.
Actually, someone has poured all of their love into the cup you used to fill,
And it is spilling over the edges.

You told me once that I should find my happiness;
Here I am. Happy.

But you have the senses of a shark, I think.
You can smell my bliss from 4,000 miles away, and you try to spill the cup.
We’ve done this before, though,
And when it spills,
You will only replace half.

You will leave me thirsty.

I can’t wait anymore.
I never thought anyone would be an overflow,
But she is.

I’m sorry.