I’ve never allowed myself a certainty until now. I’ve had dreams. Tons of them. Dreams are soothing and fun and they cost very little time. They can exist in possibility without asking anything of reality. Work is not so daunting if it’s hypothetical. Wait. I just realized I skipped a step. After dream, but before…

I have a bad question. It’s long borne from a set of parallel truths that I regularly fail to separate. I think I know the answer, too, but it always evades me. Those truths blend together at the worst of time – blurring through tears and into a single line: Is it worse to realize…

I want to tell every person I am leaving how much they mean to me and at the same time I know I will never find the time, nor thebravery, to do so. I want to cry. I want to be happy in the place that I am but I know I am not. I…

This one is more self-titled than others. It’s a question to myself and anyone reading. Books are stories and we all have stories. If we all have stories, we all have books.What would yours be? Say someone transcribed all the stories that sit quiet in your brain’s basement… how would it read? Be nice. We’re…

I woke up sad today and so I took a walk. It was a long walk and it did not have any clear objective. I avoided places I have walked before and I did not seek directions. I wandered. I miss wandering. It’s a hard thing to do these days. Maps have done away with…

No, he knows where he is going and what he is looking for. Probably. Maybe. Don’t worry, he’ll let you know if he needs something. It always will be upon his request and never at your offer. Such a waste of time. He has never been welcoming to the feeling of uncertainty. Worse, he is…

The shelves fill me with reminders of how little I know. The aura of a thousand pages swims around my head. It leaks in through each sense: the sound, or lack there of. The sight of a word, upon a cover, beneath which are someone’s ideas, research, memories, opinions, art, or just plain nonsense. The…

the sidewalk lies flat, waiting for the beat of footsteps. the road waits for the roll of wheels the lights wait for the opportunity to tell both the steppers and rollers when to go – and when to stop. sometimes the steppers step onto the street. hopefully they are on the lookout for rollers. the…

Each one is a dry scale, slowly building up to a skin to be shed.  Childish dreams, naive concerns, unrealistic expectations. All synonyms for an optimism deemed foolish in hindsight. These are the things that used to matter. I try to control them. I tell myself I’m not alone in that. If I am right,…

What would it be like? the man wonders as he walks by a buzzing streetlight at a time of night that would make his parents worry. Maybe his friends, too. He is wondering what it would be like if he were a woman. He would surely not be so comfortable walking alone at this hour.…