I swear I’m not cynical about everything in my life!
Regardless of my social ineptitude and longing for human connection, it was a delicious (and vegan) brunch at one of my favorite places. I woke up a little sad yesterday and that sadness followed me all morning and into the afternoon. Sometimes eating a roasted apple crepe with peanut butter and drinking a sunburnt white Russian on a sunshiny day does not negate whatever emotion nags in your heart. The sadness waned though in the afternoon, thanks to a massage, some quiet time with a book at a coffee shop, and a dinner out with my parents and brother. A bipolar birthday for sure.
Sometimes the beginning of the next chapter of your life and the end of the last chapter of your life bleed together, so you’re left in the middle. That’s how I feel right now. (This is the part where you listen to the “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World).
For my dear sister. I miss you!
A poem about never losing your fight. Don’t let a little darkness keep away your light 🙂
True story. But I feel the need to share my experience beyond the moment this poem captures. My dinner tonight was lovely. I treated myself to pizza and a beer at a brewery in one of my favorite parts of the city. I basked in the sun on the patio, cooling off in the 65 degree breeze after speed-walking around the park. I sat alone, but my evening was perfect. This poem is melancholy, but it is also a wish for my future, and I have faith it will happen. And because of that, I am not sad.
This morning I wished I could capture the beauty of the sky in a bottle and take it with me to work. There’s only a short window of time that the colors dance like that before the bustle of cars and smog and computers turning on all take over. It’s like a deep breath to start the day.
Just watching my kitty sleep at my feet, procrastinating on a paper, and hoping the hours magically stretch so that work tomorrow can stay in a distant future.
If you ask me, empathy is the crux of poetry.
As I drove home tonight I noticed a single tree on the side of the highway, the branches crossed in such a way that their vulnerability hit me. And then I realized how much I related to that tree in that moment and felt compelled to write our story.
Have a great night 🙂
This is my baby Cleo.