Tessa Dickinson
Bio
If art is a crime then arrest me now and sentence me for life; for art races through my heart and drives my soul at felony speeds.
Stories (4/0)
Hot Garbage
Man, sometimes; scratch that, a LOT of times I just want to give up. I read your stories and then read mine; garbage. I see your pictures and then I see mine; garbage. I see your art and then glance at mine *gags*. And these are the things I think I’m good at, f**k some days I even let myself think I’m great at. Well whatever, what has art ever done for me anyways?
By Tessa Dickinson2 years ago in Psyche
I Will Remember Not to Forget
This year, to foster kindness, I’m going to remember not to forget myself. I’m going to remember my own battered and beaten soul and I’m going to indulge her in a healing process so rich and nurturing we will feel like a whole new woman. A woman loving herself so ferociously there’s love to spare, spilling out onto you and you and them.
By Tessa Dickinson2 years ago in Humans
My Mind Drags Me Out
We sat in my wife’s ’93 Suburban, the summer air creeping in through open windows to caress our skin. We were at our favorite pull off on one of the back roads leading to home. The sun was setting. The air was still. Even the kids were silent as they tried to devour their ice cream treats before the heat got the best of them. I gazed over at my wife. The fading light was hitting her irises at just the right angle to illuminate the ocean of greens and blues. She smiled and bobbed her body happily as she scooped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She was just as magical as the day we met.
By Tessa Dickinson2 years ago in Humans
