I’ve spent most of my life swallowing anger until it fermented into a unique blend of sad, bitter, and isolated – suggested pairings are spoonfuls of Nutella straight from the jar and wearing pajamas for over 24 hours. Continue reading → Justa Hunka, Hunka Burning Rage
It should come as no surprise to anyone who has read anything I’ve written that I have a regular appointment with a therapist. Well, in one of these recent regularly scheduled appointments I had a bit of a revelation. I am not good at love. I don’t love people the way you should and I don’t let them love me back (don’t make that dirty). I don’t suppose I ever really learned how or tried to learn. Honest, open love requires vulnerability and that is terrifying. So much can go wrong when you open yourself completely to someone. There are so many ways to hurt someone or to get hurt by someone in this world. Continue reading → What Is Love? (Baby Don’t Hurt Me)
There’s a spot on my hand. It’s not a mole, I have plenty of those and I know how they look. I had one on the same hand as the spot. It isn’t a freckle either, it’s too weird looking to be a freckle. It isn’t a pockmark or a scar or a scab. I know exactly what it is. There isn’t enough denial in me to pretend. I could scrub but it would still be there and even if I scrubbed it off my skin I would still know that spot existed on me. And this damned spot is a problem that won’t let me be. Continue reading → Out, Damned Spot!