Look at me So even-tempered these days Fearful that my inner peace Might poach my creativity But is that such a blemish If I remain alive To feel the breeze on my skin For another cycle? Creativity need not be born From despair. I eschew that tired narrative. That stereotypical trope. What good are creative... Continue Reading →
I trust nothing anymore. No one. Myself least of all. My history is less than reliable, and my instincts clouded by years of traumatic response. Why should I believe anything that I interpret to be true? I’m eternally hopeful, wretchedly searching, begging for the scraps of love that any careless encounter might accidentally offer. It... Continue Reading →
Understand her history. Understand her past. Take the time to get to know why she operates the way that she does. Then you will see the many hurts, the disappointments, the reasons that she blocked herself off and learned to only trust herself.