A short poem about being a plant mom.
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 ignored that loss, never grieved someone whose existence I never acknowledged.
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.
Probably one of the more embarrassing posts I’ve ever written. That’s what makes it honest.
Some words sizzle on our eardrums, pop in our brains, make everything shut down and the body hardens into a shield.
I want you.
I crave you.
The thought of you permeates all the passive, dormant musings my brain lulls in its resting state.
You waft into my lazy Sunday dreams. I don’t summon you. You’re just there. My skin embraces your notion like bees to pollen, like its my cell’s job to marinate in the thought of you.
I want you to want me.
Like a little girl begging her dad not to leave, I want you.
I want you like water in a dessert.
But I don’t think you want you.
That’s the problem.
You have to want you before you want me.
I’m asking a flight risk to stay on the ground, and he doesn’t know how to land.
He has to learn to land first.
You can’t build a home if you’re still outside of yourself
In the sky.
Every person I ever loved tells me I compliment them too much, that my tongue is an infinite unraveling spool—thread words sewing the few inches between us. I don’t know … Continue reading The Mushy Poem