Writing

The Washington Monument, Mt. Rushmore — these places were the pride and pinnacle of what America should’ve been.

I wish I could see the world like a puzzle

with each piece

having one

rightful

place.

But there is far too much 

idealist romantic

in me 

for that to be the case.

I think

The East Wind is a rabbi in a darkened shul. He sits pored over the Torah scroll long into the night, his back bent like a cane. People come and go and come again, whispering prayers for the needy, the hungry, the sick.

You get older

nothing gets easier.

Everything only gets worse.

I have mountains of expectations

over fourteen years of my life

it feels like so much

it's so little

Every time I open my eyes I see a different world staring back at me. 

Sometimes it’s beautiful. 

Sometimes I hate it. 

Lately, I've seen more hate than love. 

it was bound to happen eventually

the death of a best friend

but now

now is a bad time

on hannukkah

what kind of a miracle is that?

now im miserable