Autobiography · Mental Health


I keep telling myself that all I really have to do is keep existing. Miss work. Let the bills pile up. Skip rent. Get rid of everything I own. Move back to my hometown. Stop trying to be a good partner, a good friend. Quit writing. Keep smoking. Never go for a run again. Get drunk. But keep existing. Just keep existing.

Photo courtesy of Arnaud Mesureur .

Autobiography · Relationships


One pressed against the wall. One hanging off the edge. We curl up together in a twin-size bed. His arm falls asleep lying under me and I lose my pillow to the floor. In the morning I tell him we’ll call this time “the beginning years”. When I lived in a warehouse apartment with no kitchen and he lived out of a suitcase. The days before we went shopping for sheets together. Before we stayed up late sitting on the floor in our kitchen.

On the couch he rests his head on my chest. Listens intently to my heartbeat and taps his fingers in rhythm. I ask him what we’re going to do. What’s next? And he explains to me he’ll do the two-hour drive for however long he needs to. That the discomfort of distance is worth the joy of being in relationship.

In the afternoon we go for coffee, so when night comes again I find myself awake and writing. The low glow of my screen illuminating my finger tips as he sleeps gently next to me. And there is safety in his breathing. In the way his chest lifts and lowers the blanket on top of me. And I find myself not wanting anything else from existence. Just let me be.

Photo courtesy of Josh Felise.

Mental Health

What You Get

"Shattered..." © Spyros Papaspyropoulos, 2014. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Shattered…” © Spyros Papaspyropoulos, 2014. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
My brain can’t carve out the words to explain this.
Can’t find a way to melt them together.

Can’t form anything cohesive.

I’m all spitting and cursing today. Teeth grinding out of my head. Continue reading →