Writing

There is nothing like the floating feeling of trying to do pilates in socks and listening to Cigarettes After Sex as your knees scrape against the carpeted floor and the almost-black almost-night clings to the windows. 

My mom says I have a strange way

Of connecting deeply with everyone

And it’s hard to say goodbye

This time

I knew the goodbye was coming

So I could leave one morning with peace in my mind

But you

Sectionals

is the equivalent of a curse word.

He warned us not to complain

I did anyway.

It's chaos

no one listens

nothing gets done

unproductive

I hate being useless.

Octopuses have three hearts. I’ve been told that I do too. Is it the way I look at you or the way I listen? Is it how I place my hand on your shoulder or how I smile?

something hits me differently

when the asphalt is wet from the rain,

and my music is turned up all the way.

my sky blue converse stained with the tears of the clouds...

i can't ever think straight.

“A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal.” — Steve Maraboli 

You called me ugly today,

Asked me why I was still here.