Sticky post
I think I’ve been waiting to write something revolutionary. Something that brings tears to the masses and healing to the few. Something that makes it so that I’m finally understood, known within and without, and before having to share too much. I’ve been staring at blinking cursors and blank pages, napkins and paper bags, receipts and rationed sticky notes. Wishing my words would write themselves, … Continue reading alright.
Sticky post
trader joe’s tulips and goodwill vases are the only excuses I have to get out of the house anymore.
trips to target for aquaphor and rides to work that have been slowly adding up, mile by mile, minute by minute.
I don’t think I believe in a singular higher power, but I wish I did. I wish I could believe that someone had a plan for me. That I didn’t have to worry so much about making one for my own life, because someone else had my back, knew me enough, and wanted the best for me, to do so. Continue reading the world.
In high school, I poured everything I had and hoped for into art.
Every panic attack, every failed class, it was all kept within those precious seconds on stage, in front of the blinding lights of the house seats.
It was the only time I ever felt free. The only time I could be who I truly was, because as far as I could tell, no one else was really watching.
There are many things I miss about those moments.
But there is so much more that I don’t. Continue reading escaping “art”
I was seventeen when I first dyed my hair. I was seventeen when I went to prom. I was seventeen when I graduated high school. I was seventeen when I explored a small part of the world without my parents. I was seventeen when I got my driving permit. And I was seventeen at my last opening King’s Game as a child. Where I was … Continue reading 18.
Today I feel self-important. I feel vain. I also feel wonderful, and excited, and free. And the mix of both is making me sick. Every emotion that one can have the night before their eighteenth birthday is brewing in my stomach and frying up my lungs, punished as they’re waiting for the verdict come tomorrow. I don’t know why I’m so nervous for something I’ve … Continue reading Birthday Eve
Writer's Cup Of Tea 