Marry the Flower.

Recovery is a weird little monkey. There’s always this assumption that the concept is a linear one. It’s an assumption I still can’t quite shake sometimes, especially when I’m in a little dip. It’s more like one of those correlation graphs. A messy bunch of crosses that are more or less heading in a similar … Continue reading Marry the Flower.


So. What now?

Trees are sneaky bastards. I can’t admit anything, even to myself, without that confession getting caught up in leaves and branches. They rustle in the breeze, whispering my secrets back to me. So loud, I swear everyone else can hear too. So they’re bastards, but I like them anyway. They steal my thoughts, but they … Continue reading So. What now?


Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming, reader. My general habit of making jokes to distract from sincere emotion is ingrained into my DNA so effectively, the prospect of writing this is physically painful. But I don’t like being told what to do, even by my genetic code, so here it is. 2017 was … Continue reading NYE