leaving blood behind
We are fed a lie in our infancy, a saccharine myth that blood is an unbreakable tether, a sacred cord that mandates endurance regardless of the cost to one’s own peace.
a small place, still taking shape
Nothing here is
quite finished.
A notebook for incomplete thoughts, things noticed
along the way, and the ordinary business of being.
You can start before you know where you’re going.
Pages from the notebook
most recent first ↓keep reading : leaving blood behind
Heavy face
Nothing exhausts me more completely than wearing the mask.
The Architecture of a tally
Congratulations on the streak! the app exclaims.
Scratches in the wall
Indentations in the gypsum. Right where she liked to lay watching, fixed on the movement of the room, never missing a single shift in the light. A semi-permanent vigil.
The same song again
I ignore the signs.
A walk without a point
Purposely parked further away to give me time to think after my shift.
On leaving room for things
There’s a corner of the room I haven’t decided what to do with. For a while this felt like a problem to solve. Lately, I’ve been thinking it might be the best part of the room.
Minutes after me
I wasn’t paying attention, I guess he’d been waiting for me to arrive.
Perhaps this is a beginning
I wanted somewhere to put the thoughts that don’t quite make it into conversations. Not because they’re important. Mostly because they aren’t finished.
that’s all for now. more, probably, later.