The Changing of the World is Great, Fascinating, Exhausting, and Terrifying.
There is beauty in change.
When a mother grows her baby, they both become tired.
Change is exhausting.
I spent the first twenty years of my life wondering about days like these. I would daydream them, think of these kinds of days all the time. I’d think to myself, “that would be so crazy, wouldn’t it? If there was a worldwide condition that was out of our control?”
I don’t know why I thought such things were fun to dream about. I think it was the idea of surrealism.
And I swallowed a lot of it.
In early April of this fateful year, I completely rearranged my life. I left a job I had been working at for nearly two years, I moved back to my hometown, and I decided to start a new career. Or rather, to start a career in general.
As a 21-year-old college drop out, I had only worked in fast-food related jobs. From the age of eight, however, I had wanted to be a writer.
I wrote novel-length stories that I would show to my family. I wrote poetry and short stories that I…
We are all here, aren’t we?
The world will collapse and we will be reborn. Such is life. I believe that life is composed of repeated concepts with new characters. Life is a bored child with limited memory. This child only knows how to play the game, “they are born, they fight all their lives, and they die.” Such is life’s little game…
Weather is a constant and mysterious phenomenon. Depending on where we are located, the weather is a steady stream of reliable rain, sun, and snow, or it is an ever-changing assault of meteorological events. Regardless of how we experience weather, we know of the powers it can possess. And the finest example of nature’s power is arguably harnessed within the infamous weather phenomenon; tornadoes.
When we think of the common tornado, often The Wizard of Oz comes into mind. Movies like Twister depict, well, exactly that. A twister. But the truth is that tornadoes can come in many sizes and…
I moved back into my childhood home today.
Fragments of memories piece themselves together as I disassemble my belongings and reassemble my former years.
These papers were for my science project. My mother kept them near.
Here is a photo of the hospital I was born at; an angel had landed here.
And all of the books we never got to reading, I think they are very dear.
Why my mother left it all behind, I think it is very clear.
My fingers know where the light switches are. I do everything by habit. I do not have to ask…
Diary of a girl with a constant headache.