“There will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.”

Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.

Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.

I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.

This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.

I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.

I’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.

Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.

How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.

I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.

In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.

I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.

I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.

I’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.

Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.

I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.

We’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.

I think theatricality is just one way of performing. I don’t think it’s a better way or the way, but it’s my way.

I try to make all of my roles likeable in some way.

The way I look at it is everybody should have the right to get married, if they so choose

I know there’s no God and I know most of the world knows that as well. They just won’t admit it because there’s another thing they know. They know they’re going to die and it freaks them out.

Creation is always happening. Every time and individual has a thought, or a prolonged chronic way of thinking, they’re in the creation process. Something is going to manifest out of those thoughts.

If as a writer, you want to capture the world we live in, I think you have some responsibility to at least try to get at some of the ways we’ve chosen to govern ourselves.

But as I’ve gotten older, and I look at the world, I think there’s a lot of ways in which that kind of building up from the smallest building blocks doesn’t actually account for the world.

We have to find ways to support creative people because the only way we are going to improve our laws… is by creating our way out of it.