Writing
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I’m tired. In the cacophony of modern relationships, it’s easy to feel like you’re shouting into the void, desperately trying to be heard amidst the noise and chaos. The relentless cycle of misunderstanding, miscommunication, and unmet expectations can leave one feeling drained and disillusioned, questioning the very essence of connection and trust. Those committed to
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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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It’s dark and quiet in the room. The lights are turned down low. Your family has left. It’s just me left. Just me, and you, and your quiet slow breaths. I pull a stool up beside your bed and wrap my hand around yours. I could leave. Your family has. Apparently at peace with what
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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
I Would Rather Be In Bed 