Asked every 9 year old on the planet ever. And I hate to break it to all of the lovely boys and girls whom maturity is slowly creeping up on, but Santa, the existence of the human being you're thinking of, the bearded man who resides at the very edge of the Earth where even … Continue reading Is Santa Real? →

I’m another troubled poet I’m the one that’s wrong. I’m feeling a mix of emotions about that right now. I kind of like my rough edges and flat voice. I kind of miss that me when I’m happy. Is that why I keep dragging myself into pain? Because it feels so wrong just to be … Continue reading First Thing I Ever Was, Was a Liar →

I'm getting you answers. I learned the word for what was wrong with me when I was 10. I was 12 when I told my sister the same word I had learned. I was 12 and she was 10 and we stayed up all night doing online questionnaires and her asking "So kinda like [insert … Continue reading This is for the kid that hid in corners: →

When I was nine I started thinking. It all happened so fast one day while I was busy living the last moment of my childhood as I pushed a plastic hamburger bun, a toy, into a hole in a piece of workout equipment we harbored in our basement. And I don’t know why it was … Continue reading My Mind is not “Mine” Own →