I don’t have a good caption for this.
Everything deflated like a balloon. That’s what it felt like to be broken up with. It wasn’t devastating. My identity remained unaltered in her absence, but the air went out. … Continue reading In Defense of Your Ex
Moments way before this one stung with my loneliness. My entire adolescence, the wake of disappointments in college, the year I moved to another city and it didn’t work out. … Continue reading Notes on Loneliness
Every event is a numerator of 1. The summation of everything you’ve lived through is the denominator.
Gen Z, Everything sucks for you right now. You’re not wrong or being young or dramatic. Honestly, it’s sucked for you all for a while. I’m your big sister by … Continue reading Hey Gen Z– a Letter from your big sister
The world is facemasks and ventilators. We are a globe of 7 billion six feet apart. CDC updates roar in as the US leads the COVID 19 virus totals. Busy … Continue reading Privilege in a Pandemic
I want the kind of love that feels like walking in my front door after a long flight, where delays and surprise layovers bungled it.
I want the kind of love that feels like a hot shower after coiling inside of airplanes.
I want love like water after running and running and running.
I don’t want that surge of adrenaline, anxiety pulsing, will-they-won’t-they affection like a ping-pong game.
I want love without agendas. The kind that marches across a crowded bar and my whole chest lights up as you come to kiss me hello.
I don’t want love feeling like ownership, it’s tight grasp around my life. I don’t need extreme jealousy to validate what I feel for you. You don’t need to be sickened by the thought of me in someone else’s arms because all that worry is just fiction. You feel where I find myself every night. You know the only arms I trust.
I don’t care who is the better person, who has the upper hand. Let’s be the best we can, acknowledging that we’re both human. We will bicker, differ, fall short, only to lift each other up.
I shouldn’t have to tell you you’re free to leave or beg you to stay. I no longer want to be a flight risk in my own relationship or build with a sworn nomad.
I don’t want a love that walks on egg shells.
I want to not feel like an inconvenience in some one else’s house.
I want a love that’s easy but not asleep.
I write about love prolifically, obsessively, trying to achieve a PhD in something people aren’t supposed to earn. Love is given not earned, but I’ve always had to earn it. I was never good enough, small enough, quiet enough, enough enough. There comes a point in the wake of poems, essays, swiping, pining, swerving when the efforting has to stop. When I accept that love was never a thing I needed to chase with a stick or beg for. I can only stand with hope and open arms, unready and yet willing to receive the love I want.
Robert Frost was right. An essay on disappointment, persistence, and why.
We’ve already forgotten about the Caroline Calloway events of last year, but it’s only a matter of time before another influencer falls.
Notes from someone who isn’t an expert on anything.