The less romantic side of being a creative has a lot to do with resistance. And I realize that I resist almost everything when it comes to the creative process.

But I want to start to try. To wake up and challenge myself to do one thing that stretches me. It doesn’t matter what it looks like at this point or if my writing is any good. I just want to start. To wake up again and be excited about the way the world will unravel in surprise energy.

I’ve spent the last year in fetal position, walking around with a dark cloud attached to my body. Afraid to let go while my spirit has been trapped inside.

Depression steals time. But that’s okay, because the darkness can feed us, too.

I have so much to say and I know it will take time.

Acknowledging resistance is the best place to start.


We will wake up in familiarity after knowing each other one week

And I will let you drive my car and you will give me a stack of your favorite cds to borrow and we will eat pho in the rain and go to the flea and roam the city aimlessly and irresponsibly on days of the week while others work desk jobs.

On public transport we run so that we don’t miss our next connection (we will miss our next connection anyway)

You will lean your head on my chest as we zoom zoom zoom


The world a smudge as fingers intertwine and

I like the weight of you

On my chest, life, all.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you

For teaching me that black is a color, too.

A Text Message I Never Sent

I know I’m like a weird piece of furniture in your life.

My presence might not exactly be helpful when you’re trying to pack it all away and move into a new space.

I’m nothing practical like a fork or a garbage disposal… And if you’re someone that values utility only then maybe we won’t make it to the next part. But that’s okay, because I want to be heard and really heard, and never thrown away when you move because you never saw me, truly.

I’m sorry for talking like this (although I cringe to apologize) I know you don’t like it, but I am trying to let you in. I know you never asked to be here. But you are and you have been and since you’re moving soon it’s time for me to do the same.

So here is the space you’ve taken up inside my life.

All of these honest words belong to you.


You fight


Strung into your DNA like pearls

Begging to be told that they are beautiful

Demons and Darkness and Death and Sin

(All anxiety tries to murder the soul)

But I have watched you bloom and bloom

And you have helped me