I’ve typed and erased so many sentences.I’ve typed. I’ve erased.There were even two full paragraphs — gone. What I have to say doesn’t feel like it means anything. Maybe that’s why I keep deleting it. But isn’t that what writing is sometimes? A conversation between the parts of myself that want to be seen and … Continue reading Welp, here we are.
blog as therapy
Please tell me this makes sense
I have this ache in the pit of my stomach. Not my heart—my stomach—because maybe that’s where my heart lives now. Or maybe it’s on my sleeve. My emotions feel bare, exposed, scraped raw by every silence. I wince when even a light breeze brushes against them. Can they read my face? Can they read … Continue reading Please tell me this makes sense
Confessions of a Compulsive Liar. 