To be fly like you. Not like me, like you. “The Thief of joy is comparison,” we’ve heard it said. That thief has always had me think: to be skinny like you, to be pretty like you, to be funny, confident, and collected like you. And.. then there’s me. At times we’re our own worst… Read More Fly like you.
4 months ago, I could not hold Aviya for more than 29 seconds before I had to put her down. Today I can carry her for probably a solid hour and even give long piggy back rides. 4 months ago, my size 0/1 pants were starting to sag. Today I’m in size 5. 4 months ago, I had… Read More 4 months ago.
I saw a man who lost his mind. Strung out on drugs, psychotic maybe. Or schizophrenia- not so mild. Perhaps he thought his name was Nebs (as Kris Vallotton refers to Nebuchadnezzar ). Perhaps he succumbed to an alternate glory and forgot who he truly was. A masterpiece. He’s young, in his early 30’s with… Read More We’re dope.
I see her everywhere. In response to pain, she hurts herself. Sometimes she’s a single girl, at others she’s a married (still, somehow lonely) woman. Many times you see her leading her own children, the example of theirs. Why don’t I mention a Mr. Self-Infliction? My resilient life has mostly seen them women. When you… Read More The Friendship of Ms. Self-Destruction & Mrs. Self-Harm