#twelveoddmonths

1/30 #napowrimo

(I needed to hear this.) And so maybe you do too.

What would you tell your younger self?

Sifting through old journal entries. Despite our best efforts, it’s near impossible to forget a single soul these days, isn’t it?

Olivia Rodrigo really took us all back to sixteen, huh? Good news: sixteen feels bigger than life when it happens, but then? Well, life happens. And it’s good.

I’ve been coming back again and again to the idea of creating and the pressure we put on ourselves to be dripping with it always. It’s difficult to wrestle with the things I feel I must do and the things I would rather be doing.

Sometimes I clock in, clock out, collapse into bed. Can that be enough?

We’re all pumping ourselves out into the world in a million different ways. Look at this, look at me, look at the things that are mine. Aren’t I worth knowing?

They were all worth knowing.

Sometimes I’d really like to Stop This Train.

So goes the way of life & loss.

You know the drill! An innocuous-enough dream that upon waking slaps you straight across the face.

I’ve always been an other worldly type dreamer. And I guess now that still stands. But leave it to grief to flip the whole goddamn script.

Oldie but a goodie that I think makes sense in the (almost wake) of 2020. Or always.

I wanted to breathe new life into this piece from 2015. A quick google search let me know that - no worries! Amazon & Walmart already had.

I know it’s a silly thing to be sad about, but for as long as I can remember I’ve had these words. They are me. Mine. I don’t get to say that about many things. I’m so glad they’ve brought so many people comfort or inspiration or the freedom to go. But it doesn’t make me feel any less sad.

When I started my Tumblr back in 2011, I had no idea what would become of it. But for the rest of my life I will be grateful for the following I built there. It is ours. As much as these words are mine, they are also yours.

Maybe that’s why a cheap reprint cuts me where it hurts: because I remember where it all began. How many times I was saved by a stranger. How many times a stranger, I hope (a little), was saved by me.

We were all a bunch of scared kids. Still are. And damn am I glad you’re here.

I wish you all could witness this median strip. Because we are all so tangled up in each other. And we are all so far away.

So I know that part of the deal of being human is the unavoidable heartache. I’m talking knees-drop-to-the-floor kind of heartache. And another part of the deal is wanting to quiet that ache. For yourself and for others. But when you recognize it as an irrevocable fact? Really, really sucks.