a tell-tale from childhood about anxiety.

I was walking on the sidewalk in my residential complex by a black metal fence probably bordering the park. It was mid evening, and summer because it was late but still bright outside. I often recall a certain event from that day. I’ve remembered this event since it happened it seems. It pops in my…

I Just Think It’s Funny How: A Rant

  One day I will get passed my “I just think it’s funny how” moments when it comes to men… But today is NOT that day. I’ve been dragged through the mud mentally by these men who purposely take advantage of my horniness and mood instability. Granted I contacted some of them first, but I…

suicidal love note

if I end up dead… that’s okay. I wasn’t having much of a fun time anyways. my bones grow tired, my mind grows listless. I have no focus because I’ve lost my vision. this tension that that grows from my spine to my toes has been putting quite a hump in the backside of my…

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How I Wasted A Fuck Ton Cash

    Swimming in a sea of melancholy with no true purpose or lust for life, a huge wad of money in the bank, and a drug habit are three things that do not make a fantastic combination. At 25 years old you have a lot less grounding in life than you think. Perhaps I…

Saying What You Feel 

Every word falling out my mouth in the perfect position serendipitously aligning with my psyche.  What a blessing. I’ve never been religious but expressing yourself freely is godly. A sense of hope that’s actually rooted in reality. This shit is sanctimonious.  Feeling every emotion make sense inside of me is like finding a polar bear in…

Why My Ex Boyfriend Finally Stopped Fucking Me

Wanting more intimacy beyond foreplay or sex is not a strange desire especially when that’s all you’re getting – sex. Most of the men i’ve been with made me feel abnormal and excessive for my desire to do more things besides fuck in order to connect with them. Fucking was always a part of ‘we’….

It Is Not Easy

It’s not easy to like yourself. It is even harder to write about the act of doing so. it even more difficult to write about the act of doing so while being filled with anxiety about writing about the act of doing so. I’m sorry it is hard to follow. But that’s just a taste…

Stumbling.

stumbling. upon poetry filled with painful nostalgia is jarring and also sobering. reality becomes vivid and suddenly all of my problems are sitting next to me nudging my arm. there’s a hole in my elbow. my issues don’t know when to let go and I don’t know where to go when I get this low,…