The time changed

and the clocks hesitated.

You fell from a secret

and I whispered in the dark.

These thoughts belong to Wednesday.

A moment I had been waiting for; shrouded in rain and disbelief. The magazine shelves extended for what seemed to be miles, upon miles against the west end of the bookstore. My heels scraping against the floor, I paced slowly, scanning every glossy cover. Titles and painted faces swirling about, I eventually captured a glimpse of what I had been anticipating for two solid months. Holding it in my hands, my knees began to shake which made standing nearly impossible. So I sat. I turned each page as if they were made of some material that would dissolve if I didn’t handle them with care. Sooner than I expected, she appeared. Seven pages of someone I don’t fully recognize. After processing every element of the page, I ran my finger over her. I looked unlike anyone I had ever seen before. As discomforting as it may seem to see yourself in a new way, there is something to be said for feeling the way I did.

Contrary to what one might think, it’s relatively difficult to breathe inside a greenhouse. The air reflecting back and forth from paw print covered panes was stifling and at times, oppressing. Regardless of my struggle to breathe smooth and effortless breaths, I felt completely new as I marched the aisles of green, dodging branches and leaves, chasing the tail of a cat through potted plants.

As you get older, wedding dresses evolve into an emotional trigger. A team of people lifted the bottom of the gown from the ground as she sauntered within the confines of flashbulbs and the sunlight that fell through the glass ceiling. This was all pretend, but her smile was much too convincing. In a moment of weakness (of which there were many) I managed to slip a $75,000 ring on my left hand. I held my hand in front of me as I imagine many girls with wedding rings must hold their hand. To ease the jealousy that flooded my mind, I wandered off in search of the cat, who I often found curled inside a flower pot.

It was more than just quitting. I’ve given up on many things, without thought or care. This was bigger than my default gesture of throwing my hands in the air, shrugging my shoulders, sighing a regretful “Oh well.” He pushed me to move on, which is exactly what I did. Over a year of my life, clocking in, clocking out, hanging on a thread of hope that things would change. I would have stayed there forever if it weren’t for him. I would have continued to make excuses. I realize that it is, for the most part, natural to dislike your job. And I realize that I have no warrant to complain. But there comes a time where you have to accept your self worth and do everything in your power to find what it is you deserve. This isn’t to say that I am in any way worthy of anything more than this, but I now know that I am worth far beyond $7.83 an hour. Once I leave I don’t think I’ll go back.

Three months is merely a speck of dust. Yet, if you’ve learned to open your eyes, that same speck of dust can become an entire glistening universe upon entering the right moment; the right sliver of light. Within this dust we’ve created a life. A life where things don’t go as planned; where things aren’t always what they seem. But at the end of the day, in our secluded, dust filled universe, this life has meaning. I feel whole. That’s love, I think.

The record player is spinning some discarded record downstairs, someone is whistling, another someone is drawing muscles and bones at the kitchen table. And here I am, sprawled across an unmade bed, writing, eagerly waiting for another someone to climb the stairs only to fall somewhere into my arms. To most, this may seem mundane. But to me, in this moment, it is exactly where I want to be.

Purple flowers are something to behold.

Teenage school girls, in plaid skirts and white button up shirts are much too distracting so early in the morning.

These thoughts belong to Thursday.

Waking up before the sun, arriving home after dark, retaining enough energy to
desire nothing more than sleep is not only exhausting but slightly disappointing.

The things you think will make things easier often only complicates things more.
By sacrificing your happiness to avoid inconveniencing someone you love, paradoxically inconveniences the relationship because one of you is unhappy, while the other one is frustrated by your martyrdom.
This is just something I’ve learned to recognize in hopes of fixing this repetitive habit .


These thoughts belong to Friday.

It’s best to end a week full of troubled and confounded feelings with a bloody Mary.
It’ is truly the only way to forget everything and start over.

Exhaustion has become enjoyable.

I forgot to enjoy the fall.

These thoughts belong to Saturday.

It was nice to be back, even if it was only temporary.
I was laughing again. Making ridiculous jokes, smiling and singing.
I don’t know where I went or why I left but it’s exciting to feel like the best version of myself again.

Mauling a forgotten teddy bear, trimming and pinning ears, piles of white stuffing on the floor,
pipe cleaner whiskers;He became a wolf.
Fake eyelashes, dirt colored blush, a red coat turned cape; I became a story book character.

Alcohol makes people needy.
People who are unable to drink become passive aggressive.

Sitting on the steps, face to face, he was drunk.
Confessing all the things I've wanted to hear
since I was old enough to know that love was
of the magical variety. His words, almost song like in nature,
were certainly nice to hear. Whether or not they
helped reaffirm my feelings, I do not know or care
because really I knew it all along.


The wolf got sick; red took care of it.

I'm not sure what prompted me to cut all ties, but I did.
I have found mothers in so many people far more worthy of the title than she.
I find no value in the fact that she gave birth to me.
Giving birth doesn't make you a mother.
And being born doesn't mean you have a mother, either.


This thought belongs to today.

This was the first day that life was real.