waves of pandemic.

When I come to the edge of one ending I often realize that I’m teetering on the verge of a new beginning. The crashing of waves remind me of this: one breaks whilst another one forms slightly behind it. Coming from the horizon, rolling to the shore, and then back out again into the magical…

i love you because.

i love you because you live with a grace that radiates kindness and a heart so resilient its cracks infiltrate your beautiful flaws the ones that failed you the ones that made you i love you because you see a world shining with good a vision so pure that you move mountains to help others…

you’re pretty much magic.

Reminder to self: you’re pretty much magic.   I, like you reading this post, forget at times just how fiercely badass I am.  Bipolar blurs the line for me often when I’m on the cusp of an emotional breakthrough.  One moment I’m self-assured fabulous and the next I’m fretting about somewhere between calamity and chaos.  I…

wander alone.

noise surrounds us. most of it static. infused confusion by the chaos of the mad beat hustle. but here in the conservation of nature i’m able to lay within my thoughts. space to contemplate. freedom to listen to a conversation with myself. to rant and ramble; ponder and philosophize. to speak a nonsensical tangent that…

the bedlam of your beauty.

i find myself frequently penning these words together lately. like most of my scribes the meaning unfolds after i’ve had a moment to digest the sounds of their syllables. so, i thought i would elaborate on this incognito phrase in more intimate detail. indulge me with your curiosity if you will dear reader. bed•lam, noun:…

let’s talk…

Let’s talk. About sex and suicide … mania and moods … drugs and depression … being and bipolar … anxiety and alcohol … hurt and hunger … violence and vices … pain and poison. Let’s also talk about the happiness of being human and how that too can be fleeting. It’s ok to talk about…

730 days sans moonshine.

july 24th has become an important day in my life.  one of my three darling sisters was born on this date.  seven years ago i explored – and continue to embrace – a vegan diet (with the exception of the odd butter tart and seasonal mini eggs of course). it was also on this day…

with you…under white linen sheets.

with you.  under white linen sheets. is where i want to be in bed.  no longer alone. where we lay awake full in love free of heartbreak. wrapped in sunlight where we can live out our dreams in each other’s arms while kissing beneath the stars and chasing moon beams. we’ll smile from the happiness…

emotional excess.

“something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.” -anais nin anais nin continues to be a saving grace for me.  her profound wisdom somewhat like a bucket of ice water splashed onto my face.  her words perfectly confronting and comforting….

it could have been worse.

“there are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”  (albert einstein) creative writing challenge day 12: it could have been worse. what is ‘it’ anyway?  yesterday’s scorn?  the broken heart?  the post-war bedroom tears?  the lost job?  the rainy grey…