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Sharing my
humanity

Here, you will find works uncovering and confronting a wide range of personal and shared experiences. Some through an analytical lens and others through emotional, each piece is rooted in healing matters of the heart. Sharing our experiences captures the essence of what it means to be human, and by exploring these we are able to find understanding and connections that remind us of the power in being both different, and the same.

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October 2025
February 2025
October 2024
April 2024
March 2024
February 2024
October 2023
September 2023
August 2023
July 2023
June 2023

A Hopeful, Final Form

10/23/2025

I do not sleep, because I worry I will only dream of you.
And I have not written, because I worry I will only write about you.

To be changed so irrevocably by someone, by something. To be irreversibly altered by a love so profound that you left feeling nothing, and I have been incapable of leaving at all. To be changed. To be unable to forget.

To be changed, and changed, and changed until there are no more shapes left for me to take.

A Silent Sacrifice

2/4/2025

How do you cope with knowing that there are parts of the story you will never tell?

How do you reconcile with the loneliness that comes with forever carrying the worst moments alone, that it is best they remain unspoken til the end of your time? How do you live with the inescapable isolation of knowing these memories must die with only you, to avoid ever giving them the opportunity to be carried on by another?

How can you carry it, while still carrying on?

The Luck of Losing You

10/31/2024

How I cry for you continues to embarrass me.

I let my face streak with tears each time I hear your name. The irony of us sharing such a thing will never be lost on me, as I will never stop hearing yours. I cannot deny the cracks it causes each time the six letters are repeated directly at my never-prepared face. The bittersweet resentment accompanying the once beloved word may never disappear completely, but I welcome the day that the memory of your face begins to fade.

Learning To Let My Pain Take Up Space

10/29/2024

A journal entry from April 1st, 2023.

Some days I wish something bad would happen just so I stop feeling crazy for feeling this way.

On days like these, days where the thoughts are consuming and both the physical and mental memories are running rampant, I wish something would happen- something bad enough to justify this breakdown but not enough to cause me to spiral for days. This also makes me feel like a victim complex. I hate it. I hate this. I hate admitting this. It feels gross and wrong. It feels like I am manipulating someone into pitying me. Except I don't want pity, and no one is witnessing these bad moments or thoughts. It's only this page, and a page can't judge me- but it can reflect me, and I don't like the reflection I am seeing right now.

Could I forgive you?

10/26/2024

I am afraid I will feel you forever, in everything and everywhere.

I can see the mark left by your hand pressed upon my cheek each time I look in the mirror. I can feel the now unbearable weight of your fingertips where they once gently traced my torn skin. I watch as all the stitches left by your love begin to rip as the time passes and drags on without you. Each tear that existed before you and started to patch in your presence now unravels in your honor. I will live with you inside of me always, despite knowing the space that once existed between us for 24 years has been reinstated. I have to laugh now at the memories of thanking a God, I am not entirely sure I believe in, for the once-believed blessed fortune of finding you. I slept next to you and replayed these prayers until my body exhausted itself. You slept next to me as you dreamt of another. I do not wish to remember this of you. At times, I do not wish to remember you at all. I do not want to carry you with me, always. I do not want to carry you with me, at all- but,

To Be Loved Simply For Being

10/22/2024

A journal entry from 4/20/2023 on loving and being loved.

The idea of love without constant offering feels weird to me, unreal. A fantasy that will remain unfulfilled. Always providing some tangible proof of my care, my thinking of them and devotion. Should I not give these things, should I not be so quick to give them- even if it is solely in the form of always paying for dinner, my mind assumes death. Any chance of love maintaining momentum and longevity dies and their feelings with it. I never realized I had this thought process until I saw it in a book. This love without excessive giving.

To Exist as You Are Is Enough

4/11/2024

Change is fascinating.

The belief that there is an ability to alter our being beckons questions of fate, brings assumptions about biology, and requires a reconciliation of accountability, free will, and the uncontrollable forces that influence our becoming. Change implies malleability and disassembly. It raises questions about what creates us and what defines us. Is our character, our actions, beliefs, and behaviors tied to a physical body- to an anatomy? Or is it a product of something more? It is likely a combination, but that is a discussion for another day.

To Love and Be Loved After Abuse

3/7/2024

“I wonder if you are ready for a relationship.”

How simple a statement, filled with sole curiosity and no judgment. Yet, it has consumed a large part of my spinning mind since feeling the first signs of attachment after abuse.

To Know a Thing or Two About Purpose

2/7/2024

“Tell me what to do,” he says. “Tell me that I will become more than I am. Tell me that I will not die feeling like I never came to be anything, at all.”

As he speaks, he looks into the dark eyes of something vaguely shaped like a human. The figure fits the general components of a person, but the parts are put together unexplainably.

The Art of Forgiveness

10/17/2023

You will not leave this life unscathed.

The world will lay its hands on you in vain. It will cause a wound to bleed until you agree to forget it. It will force your face so far down into the earth that the fallen spot will be forever marked by your pain. The crash will be so loud that it is quiet. You will see the outline of your essence as it irreversibly mixes with the sand it fell on. It’s imprint will serve as an unwanted reminder of what was stolen from you, only to be buried beneath the ground and left to rot. The world will never give you this part of yourself back- but there will be flowers that grow in this spot once infertile.