I’m aching in the anticipation
of your lingering kisses
that I want to save the feeling of.

And I hate,
that I can’t remove you
from all the space
that’s used to keep records
of all the lines on your face.

I keep writing about you
because I’m trying to find the right
words that are the accurate summation
of the things you are.

And I hate,
how haircuts will make you stop
in the midst of euphoria and,
you allow it power in this moment
even though they,
don’t give a fuck.

That is to say,
I’m not holding it against you,
and maybe it’s a store front
that makes you stop this time,
but I wish I could just
hold that beautiful face
and remind you
that hair cuts are only a phase.

Because I like when
the rooms melting
inside of a museum that ate time
seeing you,
standing there,
in that casual sort of way you do,
when you’re lost in your own thoughts
and I think about
how the light bounces
off your tossed aside hair
and down the folds of your cotton shirt
and how,
this is where you’ve always been
and how,
this is exactly where you fit
because you were the only thing
that wasn’t melting.

I don’t know how to tell you,
how completely naked I feel
and how,
I never buy cheetah dresses
when I think about you
looking at me.

I don’t know how to tell you,
that you terrify me
because I don’t feel out of place
standing next to you
but I don’t want to be
in shadows of memories of someone else.

And I’m sorry,
I’m kind of a snob
and sometimes a bitch
about people I don’t know
and how,
I don’t know what a short box is
but if you’ll allow me to,
I’d like to spend hours
watching the skin around your eyes crinkle
you’re probably laughing at me
or at least you’re smiling at me
and either way
I can take another picture in my mind
of the lines I missed last time.


And just like that,
the room melts away.
It wasn’t a museum that ate time,
it was a black hole
that ate time and the light
that bounced from your hair
and down your cotton shirt.

And you where always there
because you’d rather chase ghosts
that reside in the past
then see exactly what stood before you.

That is to say,
I hold this completely against you
because you’re not the first boy
to lie to me or to lead me on,
you are the first to be have been so cruel.

And I once thought you where beautiful
but now I can see,
you just had nice clothes.

And I think about how
I told you my truths
and how,
you used that vulnerability
and how,
you have the audacity
to say we can hang out and,
be copacetic because –
you’re sorry
and how,
you feel bad.
and how,
then you could feel better
if we pretended nothing happened
and were copacetic
because –
you like hanging out with me.



I like dating
because I like pretending
I’m the person
I wish
I was.

I like to see
how long I can
keep the facade
I crack
under my
self imposed perfection.

I like playing
a role
of the charming
with electric eyes
and musical laughs.

I like to think
my social anxiety
doesn’t exists
because with good company
and enough alcohol
anything is possible.

I like dating
then it makes me feel
you can’t be
and 30.

But as long as you have
a name of someone
and a story about them
you can pretend
you’re dating
So no one thinks
there’s anything
with you –
even if
you’re just


hello 2019

{insert obligatory New Year Eve’s post}

Let’s set the scene before we begin. It’s 30 degrees outside and snow has covered the ground. I’m in the living room of my father’s house with the leftover vomit of Christmas and even the fake tree, looks tired. On the speakers, I’m spinning my latest obsession, Chet Baker. The lighting is cool toned because it is winter in the midwest which means it’s gray most of the time.

At the beginning of 2018, I lived in Florida. I worked in a call center, for a cable company wherein I got bitched at 90% of the time over things that are completely unimportant by people who insisted their remote, didn’t have a power button. I was consumed by TV and spent the majority of my time, sitting.

Florida will do that to you though. It’s very easy to fall into the endless lull of the summer sun. I chronicled much of my time in FL on my previous blog that you can read here if you feel so inclined.

It was necessary for me to move because I had been in a rut since college, I didn’t know how to escape from. I became directionless and wondering around life, waiting for something to happen. So I left and took an extended vacation in Florida.

I always felt time stood still in Florida. Maybe it’s because the seasons don’t change drastically or the lull of the waves crashing against the shore, but certainly an attractive slower pace. I started to die there, however. I thought I could probably maintain a decent enough life but that wasn’t really what I wanted. I never wanted an okay life, I want an extraordinary life. I suppose that’s a bit idealist and maybe somewhat naive but also, why not?

I think it’s freeing to accept we’re only here for a short time and as my old rowing coach used to say all ass or no ass,  I’ve been struggling with existential dread and depression for some 4 or 5 years now. I have a hard time wrapping my head around the realization everything matters while simultaneously not mattering at all. If it doesn’t matter, why bother doing anything at all but if it does matter, you might as well try to do something interesting.

That’s the thing of it, you might as well try to do something interesting. When I was a kid, I imagined myself on TV and traveling the world. I imagined all the adventures I’d have. I couldn’t wait to grow up because that meant freedom from subscribed rules I never wanted to subscribe to. It’s hard for other people to allow you to march to your own drum and I think most people mean it from a place a love. They don’t want

you to fail but failure is usually a good thing even if it sucks or is pretty scary at times.

I always felt I HAD to do certain things like I didn’t have a choice. It’s what everyone does and if I want to fit in, I have to play by the rules but honestly, it sounded maddening. It’s always sort of expected that you’ll go to college and then you’ll get some job and work your way up, you’ll get married and pop out kids and then just do that. No judgment if that’s the sort of thing a person wants but to me, it sounded like a death sentence. I remember having anxiety as a teenager as I inched closer to adulthood because I didn’t know I had a choice in these things. I just assumed at some point I would want these things and I kept waiting for it to happen but I’m 29 now and I still don’t. I still want my adventures.

I still get flack from people who love me, about wanting to be a tumbleweed. I am a people pleasure to a fault and it is very hard for me to accept listening to what I want and not talking myself out of it because other people will think I’m being silly/immature/irrational. Maybe I am all those things but also, who cares?

I struggle with having a purpose in life. I always feel like I’m supposed to be doing something else, but I have no idea what it is. People tell me to follow your passions but I have hundreds of passions and none of them are practical so… what do I do now? I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know what it means that I am here. I expressed this to a former lover and he responded, but isn’t that liberating? If you had some predestined purpose, you’d have all these rules to follow and things to do, but instead, you can do whatever you want. I had never considered this thought and it was a bit profound to me although writing it out now, makes it seem so obvious.

I moved back to the midwest in July of this year. I moved back in with my dad and started studying software development at the local community college. I work at a grocery store owned by Amazon. I have difficulty accepting this season of life, as I see my friends who have really great careers going, are getting married or having kids. While I don’t want these things, I still feel a certain societal pressure that I should be in a different phase of my life or further along but I mean, I’m not really doing anything else anyway.

I think sometimes people sort of think life is like a checklist and once you’ve checked everything off, you’re done and then you move to Florida and call the cable company 20 times a day and bitch because you’re bored and you stopped living.

Once, I told a coworker in the call center I was just there until something better came along and she responded “yeah but really, what else is there?” and I just stared at her. I couldn’t fathom this mindset that a call center in the middle of the woods in Florida was all there was for me. I had made it and that was the end and then what? Just be consumed by the day to day monotony while flies pick away at my zombied eyes?

I suppose my New Years resolution is to work on trusting my own self more. I’m not following the guidelines that have been drilled into my head since I was a kid. Not everyone in my life is going to trust me in making that decision. Not everyone is going to understand it. But when I get to the end of my line and the Hags are deciding to cut my lifeline, I want that string to be full of knots of adventures, frayed areas of heartaches and failures and glittering moments of triumph and grandiose nonsense (because Leo’s like that sort of thing). Who cares, right? You get one shot at life, so you might as well just do what’s going to bring you joy and allow you the most fun because life is a lot of fun even if it’s kind of annoying sometimes.

Those are my thoughts. I’m about to go join a gym, have brunch with my bestie and who knows what else. Happy New Year, friends. Be constructively reckless and allow yourself to make some bad choices out of fun but be smart and don’t put yourself in danger (aka, don’t drink and drive).


It’s December 3rd and, given the title, I’ve somewhat failed at my goal to write consistently for 30 days. However, I am accomplishing the result of wanting to begin the challenge and that is to write more, develop more consistency, try different ways of writing and seeing what happens.

It’s very hard to write every single day and I think more so, around this time of year. Sometimes, there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. Other times, there’s just nothing to say or rather, nothing that seems interesting enough to say. I’d have an idea, sit down and begin flushing it out and as I began to explore it, it gets to a point where even I’m bored with it.

Creating this blog, however, has been sort of like going to the gym for my writing skills. There have been many accomplishments:

Poetry – 

I started writing a different kind of poetry than I have in the past. I’ve always been a fan of free verse style of poetry. I’ve often struggled with my own poetry because I am not very good at rhyming in interesting ways but poetry is more creative than that, I think. Similar to how art doesn’t necessarily have to follow the rules to be art neither does poetry have to follow a distinct set of rules to be poetry. I’m figuring out my poetic  voice if that makes sense.

Short Stories – 

I’ve never written a short story, exactly. I have stories in my head, all the time. My mind works like a movie and I have scenes of characters in mind; I often wonder what happened before or after this moment. I struggled for years to figure out how to expand on these moments and make it a story. I don’t think The Ship is going to be the next Harry Potter, but it is in an accomplishment in writing it, learning from it and moving on from it. In college, I had a scriptwriting professor who said,

Write your first script. Fight with it, agonize over it and complete it. Then put it away and move on. Then read it a year later and remind yourself how shitty it was.

This has stuck with me forever because that’s The Ship. I’m aware of the literary holes in the story but I’m getting it out, it’s almost to the end and the next story is going to be a little bit better. You have to start somewhere.

Thinking –

I’m being more creative and thoughtful. Having this blog has given me things to think about and consider as I sift through ideas on what to write about. It’s allowed me to be a bit more of an active participant in the world around me because that’s where my inspiration has come from. I’m more investigative as I look for something to spark my interest or speak to me in any sort of way.

Goals – 

I have a lot of big dreams for my life and sometimes it seems overwhelming and daunting to think about them. This is a confidence issue for me, as to pose the question to myself you think you’re that good to accomplish this? and it’s kind of like well… maybe? It’s a terrible idea to always consider the grandiose and forget about all the other things that have to come together first, in order to achieve that. However, I’m learning to set small, attainable goals and seeing the results of achieving those and building on that success.

I was concerned I wouldn’t have anything interesting to say but the blog is proving me wrong. Maybe I do struggle to write every single day, but I am writing more now than I ever have. It’s been interesting to see as well, what sorts of posts get more attention, as I explore different ways to write. Overall, it’s been a good learning experience and I’m pretty excited to see how else I can grow the blog and which ways it will evolve over time.

Well, those are my thoughts today. Until tomorrow, friends!



My depression
is like
when my skin feels
like a prison.

It’s boney fingers
clasp around my ankles
and drag me down so far
the only voice I can hear
is hers.

She’s a bitch.
She’s married to anxiety
and together,
we enjoy threesomes.
and then sometimes its like

I met her
when I was 13,
I met Anxiety,
when I was 16
but I learned
their name when
I was 23
and learned
what it meant
to be

Or maybe I was 20,
when the orgy between us
was so intense
that pain in my chest
and the pounding in my ears
put me to sleep with the terror
that I was going to die,
in the middle of communications class.

My depression
tells a lot
of lies
like panic attacks are fun
and everybody hates you

Meanwhile anxiety
likes to
remind me
of every way I’ve made mistakes
and all the ways everything can fall apart.

and then sometimes
it’s like

It’s like
my muscles
are atrophied
and I’m
unable to move
from my bed
talking to a person
sounds like
a catastrophe.

But then,


Those are my thoughts today. Until tomorrow, friends.

the ship v

Another installment of The Ship! You can get caught up with parts I, II, III, IV!

It was decided at the meeting, that we wouldn’t bother the fully immersed until we knew what was on the rock. We decided we would send whoever volunteered, to investigate. I, of course, along with Ansel, chose to go. Opal elected to stay behind, she would continue the maintain the ship and monitor us. From there, another 50 agreed to accompany us.

We spent several months preparing for our departure while the ship meandered closer to the rock. Our androids continued to send back information about the planet. We accounted for every foreseeable possibility; we may not survive the journey, the landing through the atmosphere, how much power we need, the possibility of hostile life and the very reality, we would likely never see this ship again.

Our rocket was stocked and we were as ready as we could be. I was beyond thrilled but admittedly, even then I was scared about what we would find. What would life look like there? Would this place welcome us or would we be invaders?

We strapped ourselves in and began our initial checks. We would be in the rocket for several weeks before we actually landed on the planet. I didn’t want the ship to be pulled too strongly into the orbit of the rock, in the case this is all a big waste of time and resources. So, we set sail into the vacuum and set our aim on the blue and green rock before us.

Being in the rocket, was worse than the ship. There wasn’t anything to do, but wait and try not to let our fear and anxiety get the better of us. It was like telling ghost stories as kids, describing the utter terror of the unknown.

None of us had ever actually landed a rocket anywhere. Ansel and I had run through hundreds of simulations in our preparation but a simulation hardly compares to actually doing it.

Structurally, we knew the rocket would probably hold up through the atmosphere. We did not, however, know what we were going to land on. The ship would shake and rumble as it catapulted toward the rock from space. The exterior would catch fire in spots and I imagine we looked like a shooting star, crashing into the side of the rock, if anyone had been around to witness.

That’s exactly what we did, smacked down in, with catastrophic, cacophony of metal. I guess we use better brakes next time.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard Ansel calling my name and shaking me. I woke up, still strapped to my seat. His face was bleeding and my whole body ached.

“What is that?” I croaked through my helmet. My body felt so heavy.
“The gravity is a bit stronger than we expected but you get used to it. Take your helmet off,” he replied.
“Your face is bleeding,” I said, removing my helmet and cracking my neck in the process.

“What was it they said it that old movie? Just a flesh wound or something? He chuckled.

“How can you laugh and make jokes? What happened?” I asked.

“We crashed.” He said blankly and then “I don’t know how long ago, I’ve just come to myself. I don’t know if anyone else is okay or not.”

I began to unstrap myself from my seat and remove my suit.
“Can you pry the door open? Check on the others? I’ll see if I can reach Opal.” I said.

Ansel helped me to my feet. I was shocked to find nothing was broken but it certainly felt like everything was. Ansel went to the door and open the panel beside it to activate the manual latches. I got to work on the radio. My hope was minimal that I could get anything from it, the entire flight deck was dead but ideally, I could re-route power from somewhere.

The door from the flight deck creaked open.

“Oh…” was all I heard from Ansel.

“What is it?” I asked.

He said nothing and I felt something on my skin for the first time in my entire life. What was it? I walked over to him, his eyes locked on the other side of the door, a golden light was hitting his face. I have never seen light like that before and what was touching my skin?

I stood next to him and turned to see what he saw. A comfortable warmth hit my face as I was bathed in the same golden light. It was air on my skin. Real air for the very first time.

It took me a moment to realize the rest of our rocket had torn off and was scattered about around us. That explains why we didn’t have any power. I wasn’t expecting the rock to be so loud and quite at the same time. You would hear the air in the trees, as it whistled through. The colors you could see that are just here and not made by humans.

From a distance, we saw the passenger deck of the rocket. Around us, where tall structures that seem to fit in stark contrast to the wilderness that was working to consume them. These structures were old and falling apart but they jutted from the rock and touched the sky. They were all around us in various forms of decay. The ground was made of rock in many places, but green hair and leaves exploded from the cracks in the rocks. The green crept up the sides of the structures as if to lay claim to each of them.

“Well, we aren’t the first.” Ansel said, “something was here before.”

I didn’t say anything for a long time and just stared at everything before us.

Finally, I said, “Let’s see if the others are okay.”

Until tomorrow, friends!


I grew up around music. My dad was always wandering around the house singing Ted Nugent songs. Our TV rotated between cartoons, MTV and CMT (the country version of MTV). My mom would blare Queen whenever it came onto the radio of our old, brown, Buick LeSabre. My brother would introduce me to the sounds of Three 6 Mafia, Metallica, and KoRn. I would find adolescent depth in 90’s pop icons and plaster my walls with posters of Destiny’s Child, The Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears.

When I was roughly 10 years old, my best friend invited me to Wednesday night church activities. For those of you who didn’t grow up in the church Wednesday night is like the social night at church, there’s bible study/youth group and if you’re really lucky, choir or band practice. We started in the choir. Later my bestie joined the brass band at the church and she would play in the band (I chose the clarinet so… I sat with the security guard who would tell me stories about how he used to work in NYC in TV commercials, while we listened to them play).

Consequently, I joined the school band. I played the clarinet for some 8 or 9 years. I continued to sing in the church choir and listen to the brass bands play.  In large part, I came to music through classical arrangements and cheery marches. Through the church, I learned music theory and even helped write a song. My school band taught me the application of many of these things I learned in church. In doing so, I gained a deep appreciation for lots of different instruments and their voices. I loved hearing how a song bounces from one instrument to the next, weaving a story with the waves of sound. These songs told a story that progressed and emoted while wrapping around your head.

I stopped playing my clarinet when I went to college. I stopped singing in the choir.  I wanted to explore new interests. My playlists went from Christian rock, classical arrangements and Mozart to Ke$ha, Justin Timberlake and songs such as “Like a G6” —which I still don’t get. I’m not suggesting this phase of my life was surrounded in particularly “good” music. This, however, was the music that spoke to me at the time. I was having a lot of fun in college and that’s what those songs are often about. However, in listening to this poppy tunes, I learned a new way to enjoy music, dancing.

The first time I ever went to a dance club, I was about 18 or 19. It was a drag queen club and they had a put on a show (also my first time at a drag show). After the show, people could dance and I remember my friend Holly bringing me to the floor. I was standard white girl who moved like a bored. Holly said “you have to move your hips!” and tried to help me. I freaked out and left the dance floor and sat down. However, a couple years later, my college friends dragged me out of the house to go dancing and I learned to get over myself a little bit. It was liberating.

It was also in college that I discovered The Beatles. Obviously, I knew who they were and some of their songs but I never really took the time to listen deeply until I started hanging out with a boy named Jake. He would sing Oh! Darlin at karaoke and it was through him, I loved the Beatles and found again, the same things I loved about the early music I found; sounds that danced.

I chased that sort of hippie, trippy sound for years (still kind of am). I met Zeppelin, Floyd, Bowie, and Hendrix. I discovered guitar riffs that screamed with movement and resonated with my soul. I heard saxophones mimic the same riffs and fight for superiority. It was like I was hearing music for the first time.

It wasn’t just these classic rock geniuses, because their bluesy elements lead me straight to the blues and then to jazz. I became entrapped by the rawness of Nina Simone and Coltrane’s insane saxophone that always sounds new.

I don’t think I’d have such a deep love of music if I hadn’t started singing in the choir at church. I don’t know that I would’ve joined the band or at least stayed with it, as long as I did. Maybe I never would’ve learned how sound moves. Almost every phase of my musical tastes was because of an introduction from someone who knew me. My musical education is thanks to my bestie, The Beatles because of Jake, Miles Davis because of an old friend, folk because of my post-college roommate; and each of these discoveries lead to a new musical journey.

I think everyone in your life has something to teach you and the best ones, are the ones who introduce you to new music that blows your mind apart as it resonates through the vessels of blood in your body.

Those are my thoughts today. Until tomorrow, friends!


I walk between worlds
accumulating outliers
that drift
on outskirts
closer to the center,
than I can reach
on my own.

Confirm my normality,
embrace the dissonance
of the configuration
that compiles
this shape
of human.

I’m an east coast sunrise,
an erratic display
of golden light
dancing on the Atlantic,
and the skies extraordinary ability
to fade from yellow to blue,
without ever creating green.

She’s an artist
the mother of us all,
she makes no mistakes
but rather, she’s Bob Ross.
Because there are no mistakes
in art…
just opportunities

And why shouldn’t
I dance on the Atlantic
with her wild, untamed

How do you capture
the ocean?

Not to contain her
but to celebrate
a world inside a world;
crashing against the bits
of rocks that dare
to stand taller.
But she takes them with her
because even the rocks
are subjects of Time.

Those are my thoughts for today. Until tomorrow, friends!

the ship iv

The past few days have been busy with family time over the holiday. Regretably, I haven’t been able to write, however today, I have delivered the 4th installment of The Ship. If you’re new to the story, you can catch up by with Parts I, II, and III.


We had been meandering for a few hours towards the curious object, when the androids finally started sending back information.

“Oh… Jade! Look at this!” Opal exclaimed.

She displayed the findings of one of the androids on the main screen of the bridge. It was the measure of its atmosphere.

“It’s got oxygen!” I said.

“Not just Oxygen!” Opal replied, “but nitrogen and… well, a bit less carbon than we’re used to but definitely enough for us to adjust to. Jade, it’s almost perfect!”

“Anything on the surface temperature?” I inquired.

Opal, scanning through the readout, mumbling off various facts of the object said to herself,

“I think it’s a planet,  it doesn’t seem big enough to pull us into orbit this far away from it. There must be something else….” she trailed off.

“Opal!” I said a little louder as she snapped back from her thoughts “surface temperature?”

“What? Oh, no not yet. They’ll take multiple reads from different areas on the surface to get a range of temperatures. That’ll take awhile. It’s got water though, lots of it from the looks of it… Oh! and land! Jade! What if this is it?”

“Oh be serious. We were born the ship and we’ll die on this damn ship.” I replied.

Opal rolled her eyes at me. What if it was? I thought to myself. What if we could actually get out of the ship. I mean really get out of the ship and feel the grass on our feet… and animals! Real animals?

“Where’s Ansel?” I asked Opal.

“I’m not his keeper.” she responded, “Why don’t you just call him?”

I glared at her but picked up the phone and waited for him to answer,

“What is it?” Ansel answered.

“The androids have started sending back information on the rock. The atmosphere is tolerable for us and it’s got water and land.” I said.

“Is that what’s pulling us into orbit?” He asked.

“We don’t think so. Opal said its too small and too far away to be pulling us in. She said there’s something else out here. She thinks we’re on the outside edge of a solar system.” I explained.

“Well, this is exciting. I’ll be right there.” Ansel said as he hung up the phone.

I began setting in the coordinates to head directly to the rock. At the very least, it’ll give us something to look at. If it has water and land, maybe it has plants and that would be amazing to see; everything is dead in space outside the ship.

“Oh my god!” Opal yelled as Ansel came into the bridge. “The average surface temperature is about 15°C with ranges of 58°C to -88°C!”

“That seems extreme,” I said.

“No, it’s probably the variations of temperatures from mountains and the poles and then along the equator of the planet. This has to be a solar system and the rock’s in the sweet spot.” Ansel said.

“Should we wake everyone? Tell everyone?” Opal was almost giddy with excitement.

“How many people do we have fully immersed in the Simulation and how many do we have that are fully in reality?” I asked.

“Most of them are in the Simulation. There’s only… 100 fully in reality and maybe another 20 to 30 more that sort of divide their time between the two. The other 800 or so are fully integrated into the Simulation.” Ansel said.

“Send a message to those who divide their time between the 2. Tell them they need to come back if they’re in. The rest of the people here, let’s gather them in the library and tell them.” I said.

“What about everyone else?” Opal asked.

“They made their choice a long time ago,” I said.

“What about…. what about my parents and my family?” Opal cried.

“You can make your own choice, Opal,” I stated and left the bridge.

I waited in the library for everyone to gather. I knew Opal was angry with me and I knew it would be difficult for her to decide to stay on the ship or to check out this planet. The planet could sustain us, based on all the information we have, but there’s only so much we can get from an android. We have to send expeditions and frankly, I’m tired of this ship. I’d give the people who are here the option to go with me or stay here.

Ansel came in and sat down next to me and asked, “What are you going to say to them?”

“I’ll tell them what we found and let them decide if they want to go or not,” I replied.

“What are you going to do with everyone logged in?” He pressed further.

“I don’t know. They can die for all I care.” I responded.

“You don’t mean that,” Ansel said.

“Why do you care?” I asked Ansel, “You already told me it’s possible to shut everyone’s life supports off and kill their bodies. They would just be downloaded to the Simulation. It’s where they want to be.”

“You’re right. I know how to end everyone on this ship without them ever knowing it but, that’s me. We’re talking about you. I don’t care if you kill them or not. I do wonder if you can handle the guilt that comes from taking life, though. Can you live with yourself? I know there’s evil in the Simulation but we both know that’s not all.” Ansel said.

“There are casualties of every decision,” I responded to Ansel.

“Listen, I’ll support you in whatever decision you make. Kill them or don’t just remember you’re the one who has to live with yourself at the end of the day,” he said.

A silent tension had settled between us when I asked too loudly, “So what do we do then? Just allow anyone to come with us? People like your parents?”

“I don’t know the answer,” said Ansel “maybe ask what everyone else thinks we should do. You don’t have to make every decision by yourself. This affects us all. You’re seriously going to expect people to choose between their loved ones and a planet that may or may not kill us? What about Opal?”

Opal walked in and avoided eye contact with me. I could tell she had been crying. She sat down next to Ansel and said nothing.

“Opal…” I began.

She cut me off, “I have nothing to say to you right now.”

I looked at Ansel who shrugged his shoulders. Everyone else started to file into the library.


Until tomorrow, friends!


For years,
I was prisoner
in a cell
that wasn’t locked.

I held on desperately,
to the shackles
given to me
as justification
of anger,
and of bitterness.

I held everyone accountable
for every trespass,
and sin
made against
and to me.

I screamed for justice!
Because how could
someone treat someone
as insignificant,
and not have to answer
for their words?

How could they
be allowed to get away
with everything,
when I was here
cleaning up the mess
lies made?

I heard…
“the saddest part
    of a broken heart,
    isn’t the ending,
    so much as the start…”
and I wanted to
remain at the start
and fail to learn,
any lesson
of myself.

if I could leave
my imposed prison cell,
I had no reason
for the bitterness
and anger
I had come
to identify with.

was the sunlight
my achy bones
and frozen skin
throbbed for
form inside my cell.

It was time to leave years ago.
This place no longer served
any purpose to me,
except to house
a state I could not
at the expense
of the sunlight.

Those are my thoughts today. Until tomorrow, Friends!