I like to dabble.
Sometimes I write about fact and sometimes I write pure fiction.
Other times I just want to get something off my chest.
Only the Highlights
I want to delete the mornings that bring with them a sense of dread, that sits in the bottom of my stomach, Heavy and persistent.
With every breath I take, My lungs bleed. It feels like I’ve been running for so long That I will never make it home again.
"Wow!" "I've never seen you look this good!" "Congratulations," they say. Filling me with praise, Numbing the pain
Teaching is Easy...
Teaching is easy. The act of presenting information to people in hopes that they learn a new skill or understand something that they didn’t before is easy.
I'd always heard that she looked like smudged mascara and scarred wrists. I'd always heard that she looked like isolation and loneliness.
I stare, stunned. Chaos is rapidly unfolding around me… A cacophony of noise assaults my ears from all directions; Bloodcurdling screeches,
I Have a House, Not a Home
When people speak of Home, They often talk about the place they live – The house just outside the city, Comfortable and new,
Ribbons of light weave through the canopy above, Warming my cheeks, painting them soft petal pink. It would be lovely to sit outside with Mary