dsc01584Flowers remind me; even all things beautiful must die. As they age, they only get more beautiful. When they die, there’s room for more to grow.

Flowers remind me; even though all things beautiful must die, the in between is worth it all.



I now know that I will be content the day a warm touch appears upon my shoulder and says to me that it is all over.


I do not often wonder how long someone has been living, I wonder how long they have been feeling. I wonder how many people they know are now gone, I wonder when they last got to see their parents, and I wonder how many times they have picked themselves off of the ground. I’m curious of where they’ve been, and what they have learned. I’m curious if they still fear the unknown. How many times have they been in love, and how many people hurt them? I wonder if they have asked themselves the same questions. I am afraid to discover that none of it matters. 

Stockholm Syndrome

I will miss your kiss “goodnight”, and your kiss in the morning before you leave for work.
I will miss your hot tea and toast brought to me in your bed as I lay beneath the soft blankets you and I had chosen on together.
The sun rays that you hated shining through will forever linger in my memory.
I will long for your soul-lacking eyes, and your hopeful smile that was always to assure me that; “Everything is fine.”
Though, I will not miss the tears that you caused. I will not miss being hysterical, screaming on top of staircases. I will not miss the manipulation that you made me feel, and the anxiety, confusion and frustration that followed.
I will not miss being left in the dark and I am now allowing myself to live without broken promises and empty words. I am deciding that I will no longer allow myself to feel like a hostage in a relationship.
What once was, is now no longer. The rest is up to me.
It feels great to be back.

The First of October

There never is any natural lighting in this room. Right now, I’m improvising light for the sake of my vision.

He’s playing a video game, a specific one he has favored this past month. Voices of the characters and sounds of gunshots echo in my head, the volume is far too loud. Though, I don’t really mind. I find him interesting.

My feet are ironically cold for how many warm wool blankets I have within my grasp. Yet, here I am with frozen feet. I decide to numb the feeling instead.

It might be getting late, I can never tell this time of year. As I look out of the bedroom window, I do know that the sun is going down. Unfortunately there are no pink, orange or yellow colors accross the sky. Only gray clouds.

But, this is fine.