An old poem.

mild trigger warning – some references to self-harm I’m working on my autobiography. I’ve finished it, in that I’ve written something that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. I’m now starting on the edits and it’s proving to be a challenge. All flashbacks and ugly feelings and acting out when I’m done. I spent yesterday in a depressed wallow following four hours of … Continue reading An old poem.

When we’re dying.

Things sink in at the damndest times.

Thoughts I’ve had for years but haven’t felt in my bones percolate under the surface and then for no apparent reason, pop into my consciousness, but with depth and gut-deep understanding attached. They become more than words I say because I’m supposed to believe them even though large chunks of me don’t.

I love “ah-ha” moments. That point in time when you finally get it…
Continue reading When we’re dying.

a hole in my chin and an existential crisis

“trigger warning – self harm

I’m standing at a fork in the road and I’m paralyzed. It’s a pretty big fork, with plenty of places for me to play. I don’t play well with others a lot of the time so I’m here alone, which is unfortunate since the games I play when I’m by myself and feeling distressed generally involve some form of self-harm. This explains the half inch hole that I’ve dug in my chin that’s now infected…” Continue reading a hole in my chin and an existential crisis