letters
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I’ve spent a fair amount of my life feeling like I’ve made the worst decisions possible. I think in a lot of ways, a lot of people feel that way. I could write a dissertation and bore you to actual tears with all of them but I’ll skip that for the sake of time and
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I peel back the covers and pull my eyelids open, feeling the absolute silence that surrounds me. It creeps in and fills my bones the second I wake every single morning. I used to run from it, filling this room with music, sounds of the sea, rain, old news, or just anything to keep the
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Perspective is only ever clear to one. Once handed out it tends to get smudged and sullied with every set of grimy hands it gets pushed through. Currently though, as we view everything though Canada’s smoke filled haze it all seems a little grimy, am I right? Tears drip silently down my face as I
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It’s taken me a long time. I mean years and years of screaming into some dark, uncaring void. Some void filled with my insanity and pain I kept trying to mask as normalcy. Funny thing about normal, we spend so much of our time trying to portray some perceived normal we have built in our
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“Save it for later.” I’ve used that phrase more times than I care to admit. Just save it for later. Or, I’ll do it later. I told myself that just the other day as I was reaching into my cabinet to pull out new hand soap for the bathroom and kitchen as the previous ones
I Would Rather Be In Bed 