
permission is a choice
I started going to therapy.
A newsletter for the hungry artist, the media lover; full of short stories and personal essays...
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I started going to therapy.

I deleted X/Twitter.

If you are anything like me and enjoy the works of Sofia Coppola you might sense that craving of further exploring her work.

Perhaps in my digestion of futile emotions I learned the allowance of them.

I took three quizzes tonight to confirm what I already knew.

When I noticed that love had been stripped from my life, I felt a sudden complication in air consumed by nihilism and fear and existentialism and hunger for a meaning that I simply couldn’t find.

The fruit of life has been giving.

I could be that thing you want the sinner on her knees when the innocence bleeds in public.

I have found such gratitude in my being recently that I don’t know where to shove that positive feeling.

I’ve made an impulsive decision.