I usually buckle when I’m accused of being so “pissed off” all of the time. What the hell do I have to be so pissed off about anyway? Nothing, I suppose. Or, maybe everything. Maybe I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Maybe I’m pissed off that I can’t talk about anything without […]Read more "spouting off"
she held the memories close to her heart. memories are, after all, what keeps us moving. they keep us loving and learning and wanting more. what else do we have but memories? they are our stories. they weave us into who we are now and who we’ll become tomorrow. she knew change was imminent. it […]Read more "let them fly"
I had walked around the streets of Paris for what felt like at least 30 miles before I gave in and bought a ticket for a red double-decker “hop on-hop off” bus. it was a bold move for someone who admittedly would rather slit her wrists and bleed out slowly than to take in a […]Read more "that time I hated Paris"
it’s her own fault. she put him there, up on that pedestal. the same pedestal he uses to climb up so he can look down on her. to yell at her. to make her feel like a child. she feels defenseless and worthless. and it’s her own fault, building him up that way. giving him that position. backing […]Read more "soar"
she dropped her head to the table. that alone hurt, but it didn’t matter anymore. the headache paled in comparison to the massive explosion that was happening all around her. this time, she could feel it in her chest. she felt it in her neck, too. but that’s nothing new. ever since the spine surgery, […]Read more "overwhelmed"