Writing is more than just something I do for a hobby or for work, even. It’s about being vulnerable without getting hurt. It’s about sharing stories (whether they be true, fiction, or embellished) and getting ideas out of my mind and transforming them into something that someone, somewhere, might just want to read. Or enjoy reading. Or hate reading.
So, former friend, if somehow you find yourself reading this post, I hope you get over it. I hope you get over us. LET IT GO. You were the one who ruined our friendship. You were the one who broke my heart. You can say you know my family, but do not use me or my name for anything. Have enough respect for yourself to realize that you were the villain in my story. STOP USING ME.
Maybe that’s a self-absorbed way of thinking of things. Maybe I am an attention seeker and that’s just something I’ve got to deal with. Maybe I’m just one voice, crying out against billions of other voices, wanting to be heard by one person I don’t even know is out there listening.
We are in the age of superhero movies and TV shows. Marvel and D.C. are fighting for our attention and we don’t have to be convinced to watch them. Whether or not we know the backstories of each hero doesn’t matter so much as it matters that we crave this genre, particularly at this time in history.
There are days when it seems like everything is irritating and nothing is changing like it should. It feels like standing still while everything and everyone around you is moving so quickly that you can’t even see anything except for blurs.
Today marks my oldest brother’s 30th birthday! I figure that such a momentous birthday milestone should warrant a Josh appreciation blog post of its own. My brother and I are 7 years apart. We haven’t always been close, but I have always looked up to […]
If I ever learn anything while being at home, it’s that I love my parents even more every time I see them. Hugs from your parents (when your parents are as loving as mine) have some sort of healing powers. I’ve still had anxiety while here, but my depression has been gone.
Explaining how I feel about my mom is an interesting thing to do. It’s difficult to put into words, because I don’t know how to properly describe the woman who not only gave me life, but gave my life meaning and so much love.