Writing

There’s a place I want to live

And someone I want to love

I want to live in a place

So full of joy

That it fills me too

So full of people

Confetti rains down  as flying squirrels fill the screen

You read your acceptance letter and I'm filled with overwhelming happiness

But I'm not ready

I wish I was underwater, my thoughts drowned out by silence.

The world above me muted.

The water cooling my skin.

Surrounded by that velvety liquid we call water.

That miracle.

Oh, how I wish I were underwater.

It was roughly ten hours too early for Private First Class James C. Bartholomew to be marching.

From childhood

we're taught the difference 

between heroes

and villains.

But maybe it 

just depends

on who's telling the story.

There’s a quiet beauty 
in the things you know won’t last 
moments already fading 
even while you’re inside them.