it’s b/c you denied it to you.

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Loudness?
Too Western.
Culture, then? (Or wit. Bravery.)
The mistake of that one jacket
(or) her excitement that had
you conjure up the (sudden)
notion of boundaries (aka walls).
Or the mere fact of
waiting, versus her having
cut to the chase?

She was cute.
She liked me.
We clicked.
But then time ticked.

No.
She was the air.
You were a wind.
You thought you’d lose your breath
so you left
but now she’s short
of a scent
left craving
wondering if she committed a wrong
for simply
seeing the best of you
that you denied
kept denying.

Happy?

instagram notif

you leave
yet you like –
I remember
and resist

this is a letter to myself.

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Honestly, you don’t need to know
why you’re a step slow,
forgetful, anxious to stop
and see where else
you need to go
(but not always how far you’ve come
already).
Misfortunes rob each breath that
fail to escape lungs and
instead clouds up the heart
already filled with a million and one
unspoken junk, strung
together on a
long string of panic.
There isn’t room for
peace – only calamity
and the notion of lost
sanity at all the things
I do wrong.
Even still, you’re
hungry for
rest – no plans echoing
in your mind
to paint a false sense
of doing “it” right –
“adulting.”
But where
is running
taking you?
Self-love
is an act
of healing –
you’re not selfish
for choosing
yourself.
You’re so quick to bring
light to others, but
where is yours?

how to calm a wildfire 101

opinion: pity is a double-edged sword.

Pity is a good word.

It’s a very understated word, reserved often for fantasy books or romance movies or even sad animal stories that – beyond a little personal infliction, we don’t truly have to be invested in. It’s more so a conjured feeling, and not something we associate with daily.

But if we do – we hide it like shame.