This morning I woke up feeling unsure about so much.

I love Fall, but it’s also my birthday in November which brings me to question so much of my existence.

Another year older and did I make any progress?

This time around the sun, I’m not sure. I like to think I did, but I also feel stuck and confused. Heavy with the weight of everything that I want to be right now.

See, I don’t want anyone to know my age, because I feel like there’s less magic in being 24 when you still don’t have your life together in the ways that you thought you should’ve by now.

But there I said it. I am 24. And, even though I don’t always feel it, I am proud of where I stand.

It’s early October and I exist in a world that has always and never been.

I am a writer and a photographer, an interior designer and a stylist, but it’s always been hard for me to wear labels, so I call myself a planet girl instead.

What I want you to know, my darlings, is that I am figuring it out, too.

I am sitting with insecurities and anxieties and thoughts that steal time, but I am making the decision to fight for me - awkward and imperfect and unsure - sitting inside of this rib cage, waiting for the right moment to break bones and be.



I can feel my see through skin peeling off as I move from one space to another.

Everyone in this world is pretending to be okay while allowing themselves to float into one another, but I have a harder time.

I feel so dark in this body. Like someone turned the lights off and I am dead weight floating to the bottom of a crystal blue sea.

It’s peaceful in this embryonic space, but when do I start kicking? When do I wake up in the morning at a normal hour with a normal routine and a job that makes sense?

I love living in my own world, but it’s hard to operate when the voice in my head is telling me a million mean lies. As if I’m not doing an okay job when I know that I am doing better than ever.

Learning to trust myself in a space where everyone can see is so scary. But I know I need to follow the fear. Let it be my guide.

A year from today everything will be different in all the right ways.


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.

Read More

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.