Today was a fairly good day. I love myself. I love my life. Read this next time you're in anguish. I'm watching October slip by like fall leaves on a dead tree. I need to find something else to do besides watching the time pass. I have no energy.
Why is it raining.
I would rather be fishing.
Wednesdays are long.
Tell me, am I not the only one who is sick of these damn old men deciding what women are going to do with their bodies?
ywp is my home away from home
except it's always at my home
so it is my home
One summer, when I was about five years old, I abruptly glanced upon the vast sea with new eyes, ones that saw the water that I used to love so dearly in a petrifying new light.
For the adjective challenge I described an apple and than I asked ChatGPT to describe an apple without adjectives.
Honestly, it’s hard to believe that as I’m writing this, lounging here in a big bus (treat from Iteam), I’m completing four weeks in Guatemala. I had no idea I would be able to do this trip. My brain was full of fears.
They called him a legend, but legends don't bleed—and I watched Diogo Jota bleed for his game. It wasn't just the goals, trophies or the crowd—It was what he gave when no one was watching.
I’ve been smiling. And smiling– because that's the only way to show I'm fine. But behind that smile lives a storm I don't speak about. The type of storm that threatens to destroy everything in its way. Yet small raindrops just come out.
It was playtime, then pressure. All gone in a blink of an eye. The girl’s smile weaved stories, soft as a flowing stream. She screamed in pure delight as her uncle threw her into the sky.
Even with my friends, I'm alone.
They date. They love each other.
On Saturday, May 3rd, 2025, at 10:40 PM, it rained a perfect rain. There was no buildup. The skies never darkened. It just happened. It was not raining before, and now it was.