little blurbs, quagmires

I’m just afraid that

if I keep fighting for you hell or high water,

eventually I’m going to drown.



I have this idea that imperfection is beauty. It’s not original in any sense, but it’s my adopted┬ácounter to what everyone had told me before, including my mother who said to pick up my chin, sit with both feet on the ground, look proper, and watch everything I do.

That was so tiring.

And what is the point of perfection if what it really signifies is being normal, fitting in?

Life is far more interesting as a weirdo, as someone who just doesn’t always fit in with everything, as someone who is willing to be rough around the edges, as someone who takes life by the hand and pledges:

“I will not treat you the same as everyone else does.”

I like the way jagged edges look, and rough textured cloth that is representative of its tumbled past (a past we all have). Tripping up on words and thoughts that aren’t fully collected are indicative of the vulnerability we hold that distinguish us as alive, as agents of our own life, but not agents of the untamed earth.

I am not perfect, and my wrinkled flannel shirt, black pants distinguished by unintentional holes, and dirt-caked sneakers show that exactly. Imperfection, in so many ways, is more aesthetically pleasing than any perfectly aligned black squares.

So I’m just going to remind myself: don’t be a square, be a fucking crazy irregular heptagon.

Featured image credit to Noel Shiveley (@noeltheartist on Instagram)


A toast to life

Here’s to life meaning staying up till 1:30 every night quietly stressing out sitting by your computer the only light in the world coming from your screen.

Here’s to life full of stress and worry about the same old things and never forgetting those same old things because the new ones are just the same ones.

Here’s to life with essays and applications and word limits when all you want to do is write write write about what makes you happy in life and why.

Here’s to life completely dissolved in bad solutions that are deceptions and conclusions that shouldn’t have been jumped to but people did anyway.

Here’s to life looking at friends’ faces and forgetting why you love them so much and you know you do but sometimes it’s just hard to remember why it’s that way.

Here’s to life hearing everything people say but not listening because everything means nothing to you and there’s no significance in words so strong.

Here’s to life consuming what’s put in front of you without thinking what is going inside your body or what you’ve begun to believe and change.

Here’s to life thinking about all that is going to change and crying about possibly never remembering a day of what is most important to you today.

Here’s to life with it all.

Here’s to life with you all.

Here’s to life,

Here’s to life.