we slept so long in
the dancing green grass, our hair 
started growing up.
--
somewhere, a dragon
-fly alights on a blade and 
breathes fire through red wings.
--
the rain hurls itself 
against the sea until it
is hollow once more.
 

    Recently I have started down that tire-skid-marked path of acquiring what is known by adults as a driver's license and by teenagers as freedom. To prepare for the test, I’ve been driving for just a little longer than is legal and acquired a fastn'furious-esque poise through my mother giving me what has, on several occasions, almost literally been a crash course. And while I do enjoy the autonomy driving gives me, have become quite comfortable behind the wheel, and routinely...

Adolescence had a scent.  A scent of impropriety and impressionability, of the desire to be unique enough to fit in, of contradiction.  I stood alone.  Around me, Doc Marten garbed photographers flirted with Creeper clad bassists.  Left minded skinheads smoked with young mature girls, sharing a stoge under a cracked outdoor porch light.  A couple sat on a swing set.

I held no feeling of love or adoration for romanticization.  I had been in a relationship with a boy whom...

TW: Medical
February 7, 2018:
As I visit the doctor, sure I am sick, I am aware of how much I have grown up. As a child, I cried and hid under the examination table when it came time for shots. Today, I breathe and look away, hardly feeling anything as a large needle takes blood from the prominent vein in my elbow. I receive two shots after my condition is determined and merely wince, despite the fact that they...

January 1, 2018: My fingers press into the strings and grip the bow a bit tighter than acceptable as I practice my violin for the first time in a while. My connection to the instrument is magnetic; I will always return to it, despite whatever has kept me away. Making music through this vessel feels so natural, reminding me of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s flow, the way one achieves self actualization. My friends will come and go --as they have-- but the...

Let me sing like angels for the demon that fell. 

    What is it? First grade? Kindergarten? Surrounded by my small classmates, sitting at our oversized desks. I only remember some of them, my little friends, because at that age we were all friends, and for odd reasons. But at least I remembered them, and my teacher, near our desks that day. I don't remember the date, exactly, but I do remember what we did then. Next to our cluster of small desks where we sat with a paper stretched in...

Why do people try so hard to fit in? What for? Better to be hated for who you are than loved for what you're not. Why must we strive for the approval of others if we do not approve of what we are doing ourselves? I ask you.

Sometimes the most difficult question to answer is the one you know the answer to. It all starts when you’re really young when you know that the possibilities are endless for where you might begin. But out of all those possibilities, which do you want the most? When I was very young I thought I knew what I wanted most -- I wanted a costume and mask and to web-crawl like Spider-Man. Although being adorable, it was, of course, just...

we slept so long in
the dancing green grass, our hair 
started growing up.
--
somewhere, a dragon
-fly alights on a blade and 
breathes fire through red wings.
--
the rain hurls itself 
against the sea until it
is hollow once more.
 

    Recently I have started down that tire-skid-marked path of acquiring what is known by adults as a driver's license and by teenagers as freedom. To prepare for the test, I’ve been driving for just a little longer than is legal and acquired a fastn'furious-esque poise through my mother giving me what has, on several occasions, almost literally been a crash course. And while I do enjoy the autonomy driving gives me, have become quite comfortable behind the wheel, and routinely...

Adolescence had a scent.  A scent of impropriety and impressionability, of the desire to be unique enough to fit in, of contradiction.  I stood alone.  Around me, Doc Marten garbed photographers flirted with Creeper clad bassists.  Left minded skinheads smoked with young mature girls, sharing a stoge under a cracked outdoor porch light.  A couple sat on a swing set.

I held no feeling of love or adoration for romanticization.  I had been in a relationship with a boy whom...

TW: Medical
February 7, 2018:
As I visit the doctor, sure I am sick, I am aware of how much I have grown up. As a child, I cried and hid under the examination table when it came time for shots. Today, I breathe and look away, hardly feeling anything as a large needle takes blood from the prominent vein in my elbow. I receive two shots after my condition is determined and merely wince, despite the fact that they...

January 1, 2018: My fingers press into the strings and grip the bow a bit tighter than acceptable as I practice my violin for the first time in a while. My connection to the instrument is magnetic; I will always return to it, despite whatever has kept me away. Making music through this vessel feels so natural, reminding me of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s flow, the way one achieves self actualization. My friends will come and go --as they have-- but the...

Let me sing like angels for the demon that fell. 

    What is it? First grade? Kindergarten? Surrounded by my small classmates, sitting at our oversized desks. I only remember some of them, my little friends, because at that age we were all friends, and for odd reasons. But at least I remembered them, and my teacher, near our desks that day. I don't remember the date, exactly, but I do remember what we did then. Next to our cluster of small desks where we sat with a paper stretched in...

Why do people try so hard to fit in? What for? Better to be hated for who you are than loved for what you're not. Why must we strive for the approval of others if we do not approve of what we are doing ourselves? I ask you.

    The human mind is a funny thing. I know this because some days, I laugh, cry, and smile without him ever crossing my mind. Yet on other days, the bitter memory rushes back to me, digging its jagged claws into my skin. When I look at the stars woven into the night sky like diamonds, all I can think about is how he would never see them again. 

    On that fateful day, none of us were prepared for the shocking...