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"
I always thought it was neat that both of my sets of grandparents lived at the end of a dead-end road. I’m not sure it means anything really. it’s just a fun fact about my family. we come from dead-end roads. not the same dead-end road, because that would just be weird. the roads are […]Read more "dead ends"