Talk to me

I know you want to understand.

But you can’t.

Nobody knows what’s going on in my head.

Not even me.



The petals

Which form themselves together

From a bud on a thorned plant

Thorns which prick and pierce

If only if you let them

The petals

expand in their beauty

Until they fall


They spread to let out the sweet scent

They grow together until they come apart

Until they fall


Then the flower is done

And the petals leave the stem

The seeds, the remainder

Will make more blossoms

Which will too expose their sweet scent to the world


Whether they are in sight

Or in a hidden corner

Hidden away

Behind many leaves and thorns

To protect themselves from the elements

A skilled hand can still find them


They can be even more beautiful

Than those front and center which feel the full force and fury

Of the hands which pluck at their petals

But their petals will fall too

Yet still leave their seeds behind




I am not a person who is naturally so violently opinionated.

But when there is someone trying to get me to believe something completely independent of the truth, I can’t stay silent.

Alternative facts. There is no such thing. The truth is the truth, and if you cannot understand something as basic as the difference between the truth and blatant lying, you are truly misguided. Much less be in a position to make people to be convinced everything you say is true.


“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” ~Les Brown

I feel as though I have been building my rocket for my entire life, preparing for this.

Now to see if it can even escape the Earth’s gravity. Or if it all will come crashing down.


I always thought this to be an interesting word, and a contradictory one at that.

You say, it’s a bittersweet memory, when you think of someone who is no longer with you. Of somebody you miss.

You somehow feel both happy and sad at having to see that person in your mind’s eye, because you may never see them again. You feel both joy and pain.

I have a lot of those kinds of memories.

Inspired by Melanie Martinez – Bittersweet Tragedy