#metoo

Spearmint. Porch swings. Garth Brooks. Sweet tea. Southern comfort settled in my bones and began a rot at the marrow.           “Baby, you’re sick.” You were — are — always will be my cancer. I married a man with soft hands so I could sleep without the lights. Advertisements

Together, Somehow

If you know me, you know I cannot delve into the tragedies that surround us. I can’t do that (watch every news coverage and hear everyone’s opinion and stance), and be functional. I can either learn all the facts, read all the sides, and mass-empathize with the crushing loss, or be functional and go to work, be a…

Solace

Learning how to engage (in genuine interactions), with people has been a true struggle. I’ve created a world of distance, where every relationship and exchange is fabricated with the persona of someone “normal.” I (for the safety of my own identity and psyche), withhold who I am to ensure the other person leaves happy, fulfilled,…

Fireproof

This little snippet has given me greatly needed comedic relief over the past couple of years, especially during my final year at university. I was constantly in the state of “what next, what should I be doing?” and living in sheer panic. Unfortunately, this isn’t something exclusive to college students; it doesn’t just disappear miraculously…

I’m always asking myself what is normal…

Is it normal to have less and less friends as you get older? I guess when you aren’t forced to congregate, and you’re a loner like myself, it just kind of naturally happens. When you don’t see people, you often don’t talk to people. My rationalization. Literally the only thing I miss about high school…