A man.

Let’s talk about a man

His scent as I bury my face in his neck

The taste of his skin as I gently bite down

It’s primal, this need to nip and bite and taste

How about the way his smooth back feels as it runs under my soft hands, feeling… always feeling

Greedy and alive

His lower back, taut and ready and willing

To be touched and caressed

And the energy, shared between us as our bodies touch in the most intimate way

Feeling things we won’t forget until next time

Saying things we’ll forget tomorrow

Touch me, with more than just your hands


We are all simply dust, the byproduct of some far away light, long since burned out over the course of time. Crashing into one another without regard, combining our dust with ashes of memories we’ve made and tried to forget. We collide because it feels good, we part because it is natural. My dust will forever be yours, and yours mine.

My beautiful disaster.

I was 24 when I met him. From the across the bar he was the most perfect specimen I’d ever seen. Up close he was even more so. His smile ignited mine and from that moment on I’d forget what it meant to be alone. He was a beautiful disaster. A swirling of chords and notes that smashed into one another, creating a sort of chaotic free for all. For once in my life I could do what I wanted, and what I wanted was to be with him.

Reality hit shortly after. The blindness I had allowed to take over my life was soon healed. The veil was lifted from my eyes only to create the perfect storm of devastation and realization. What I thought was love was obsession. An obsession to not be alone. Alone I was nothing but a mess of nerves and anxiety. I was no one. With him I was something. I knew how to be around him. I was exactly who I thought he wanted me to be.

The drugs took over. His pupils, constantly dilated, looked at me with fear and longing. “Don’t leave me. I can change.” He’d say. “People don’t change…you’ve taught me that.” I said, as I sat in the Panamanian airport with him, feeling more alone than I’d ever felt before. Salty warm tears streamed down my face for all to see. People, see my vulnerability, feel my pain or laugh at it. It’s raw and it’s real. My heart breaking more and more with every painful thought of losing him.

“People don’t change.” I thought. As I flew miles and miles away from my beautiful disaster.


Beneath your skin there are dragon’s scales

Shiny and holographic, laced with gold

Occasionally on a quick movement or a start, I catch a glimpse of that gold glitter in my periphery

We’re never taught what love is, we’re shown

And we never get to decide if we’re shown well

As soon as it happens it can be gone

With nothing but the memory of a glimpse

A glimpse of glitter gold


Too early to give up?

My aunt has been with a man for a long time. He isn’t her husband, per say, but he is her companion. She had many failed relationships, most of them abusive ones. When she met Greg* she knew he was safe. I always thought it was strange how they never showed affection towards one another. They didn’t even share the same bedroom. Sometimes when I’d go to my aunts so she could babysit me, she’d let me lay in her big comfy bed with soda and popcorn and watch movies on her TV. I saw Pet Semetary one of those nights and I’ve never been the same since. They’re just there for each other so they don’t have to be alone.

Funny to say I am in the same situation. I am 30 years old, a string of long useless relationships behind me. I gave up, somewhere along the way. I met a guy I thought I could love, but I aimed too high. Truth is, I don’t know if I can love anymore. I watch these cheesy movies and shows and it makes me wish I could…but I don’t know. So the latest guy and I decided to call it quits about a year ago. We were “together” for about 2 years. We realized the romantic part of our relationship wasn’t working so we nixed it. For a while it was working out perfectly. We were roommates, different rooms, split the bills. But somewhere along the line it got complicated for him. Not for me. It’s simple for me. I don’t see him as anything more than my best friend and roommate. Unfortunately the line seems a bit blurred for him. My entire life I’ve always been worried about how others feel and not enough about how I feel. I am so scared to hurt him when he has done so much for me. I’ve done a lot for him too. When I met him he was living in a tiny house the size of a shoe box with no heat and air. He had rotten chicken in his freezer and basically ate Mcdonalds every night. He was working 60+ hours a week and slept in a recliner. Now he is in a beautiful apartment that I turned into a home. We’ve built a little life together but we aren’t together. He occasionally tries to touch me or hug me or cross that line that I built, and it’s getting frustrating. I wish I could feel that way for him, but I don’t. We could be having a great moment making each other laugh and enjoying each others company and he always ruins it with a weird gesture or joke.

I guess I know what I have to do. Be the person I always hated. Be the one that leaves. I have no job right now, no income coming in other than school loan money but that goes fast with a $1,000 rent each month. Eventually he will have to move out and I’ll have to find another roommate. It’s terrifying because this is all I’ve known for 3 years. He’s my best friend. He’s been there supporting me and I him. I feel trapped and confused and angry. Angry because something always has to complicate everything. Angry because life can’t just be fucking simple. I just want to be able to breathe.

I just want to be able to fucking breathe.

I am 29 years old and wasting my life away.

Have you ever been sad?

Have you ever been sad before?

Of course you have. But, I mean really sad.

The kind where the only thing that seems logical is to lie on the floor.

As if laying there grounds you somehow, reminds you that you’re not falling. And you cry and the tears are good.

They’re warm even though they represent something so cold.

And you wonder how long you’ll lie there. And you have things to do but you don’t really care because you’re half alive and also more alive than you’ve felt in ages.

So you lie there, for however long, and you breathe. And sometimes you wish you’d stop but deep down you know you don’t mean it.

Something is telling you that nothing is alright…but it will be.

And eventually you get up and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are red and puffy but you think, “I love the way I look after I cry.” And you take a shower and you get in your pajamas and you sit down, or lie down and you let the healing begin – and just like you knew, deep down, everything starts to be alright again.

Have you ever been sad before?

**I published my first short story on Amazon and it’s free with Kindle Unlimited. Link below if you’re interested in checking it out :)**

Soul on Fire

I’m a book.

When did I stop feeling anything? Like a sliver of the past is still stuck in me somewhere, I can remember a time when I used to feel everything.  

Now it’s like I glide through each day just waiting for the next. What is a mind to do when life seems so complicated but in reality, is so simple?  

Life is simple in the sense that you either are alive or you’re dead. But being alive is where it gets complicated. Society has standards…norms. Work, make money, have nice things. If you don’t have nice things you’re looked down upon. If you don’t work, you’re useless.  

So, am I useless?  

I don’t feel useless. I feel like a book that hasn’t been opened by the right opportunity yet. I am done with the 9-5 jobs. I am done working for entitled people who treat others like shit. I don’t want to see the bad side of people anymore, which seems, to me, the side most people present now a days.  

I’m looking at the facts here: 

  • I am an overweight 29-year-old woman, living in an apartment with her ex-boyfriend/now companion. He helps me and we support each other. 
  • I am unbearable when it comes to relationships. I am passionate and assertive, and I have an opinion about everything. No man I’ve met yet has taken these things the right way. 
  • I’ve lost faith in romantic love. I don’t believe it exists. I have felt it before, but I don’t think any man is capable of giving it back.  
  • I can’t stop eating. I have a certain weight I get to, and once there I stop eating so much, but I maintain. And it’s not where I’d like to be as far as weight goes but how to stop eating delicious foods when food is the one good thing in life? 
  • Am I depressed? Do I have functioning depression?  
  • I think one of the biggest questions in life from anyone alive is, “Is this normal?” 
  • Is it normal not to feel anything? Not to feel happiness, or joy. Not to look forward to anything? 
  • I should take that back. I feel. I feel sadness quite often. I feel a bit hopeless most times.  
  • I used to be excited for the unknown: the future. Now I’m just complacent about it.  
  • 9 billion people in this world and I live in the land of opportunity.  
  • I wish I knew where to go for the opportunities.  

I’m lost.