Several years ago now, my mother passed away and I plummeted into a chasm of grief. With her, my ability and desire to write. I have stared at a blank screen for six or seven years now, urging words to appear before me, but none would. This was not writer’s…
What good is an epiphany if I don’t act on it in my life? What good is a sudden realization if I don’t absorb it fully? Why practice self-reflection if I won’t accept what I come to know about myself? Why desire change in my life if I won’t actually…
I was once asked what was the biggest lie I had ever told. The biggest lie I could ever tell. Was it to my parents about curfew or my child about where babies come from? Could it have been to a sibling about borrowing something I shouldn’t have? A scratch…
(when foolishly seeking illusive and mythic beasts) open your hands to catch your breath (dropping pain from memory) Peel away skins of bitterness and layer on freckled vulnerability. build pyres of looming specters, only to shred them for…
Good intentions, they say, pave the road to hell. Good intentions, they say, are meaningless. Your intentions, they say, are meaningless. Your meaningless, they say, and on the road to hell. I disagree. They who are ambivalent litter the devil’s highway with apathetic proverbs and carefully crafted phrases tinged with…
The courier font is clean. I appreciate its lines, its control. It looks crisp, like my button-downs fresh from the dry cleaners. The courier is lightly starched and pressed. Precisely how I like my life. My appearance. I like things courier fonted. Ordered. Straightened. Symmetrical. Tucked in. That’s me. Or at least,…
