words go here


Once in my high school theater class, we played this game where the challenge was for everyone to repeat the same sentence, over and over. And it seemed so simple, until it wasn’t.

I fell in love with the way the emphasis on certain words changed with each voice, and the way you could just hear how it affected each of us emotionally — so it stuck with me. The meaning of the statement changed drastically over the course of exercise, but the lesson was that perception changes everything.

My mind plays this game a lot when I write, as it reminds me that words only have the power we give to them, and nothing more. But the beauty of it is that by being human, and letting our emotional energy wash over the thoughts we spill onto paper, that power is so fucking limitless.


I can’t love you anymore.

I can’t love you anymore.

I can’t love you anymore.

I can’t love you anymore.

I can’t love you anymore.

I can’t love you anymore.


I have written too many words for men. I have written too many words for lovers who made me lose myself.

And I used to pacify my need for creativity with the comforting little idea that the purpose of my writing was to bring love into my life, and so I believed that without love, I would not be able to create art. But I forgot that if I do not write, I cannot create love. The emotional magnetism comes from within, and we determine the shape it takes and where our energy flows.

The perception, and therefore limitations, of others should never be used to measure your capacity for love.

Every time I write, my placeholder (before I can twist up my heart and vocabulary into some kinda pretty mess) has always been the title of this post. Words go here. So it seemed fitting to officially start this blog with just that, and deem this as my placeholder. This is my place, and here I will hold my own, and here…

I will write.


this is how you do it


So you pick some flowers for yourself.
Then you pick yourself up, you dress up, you show up.
You drive fast with the windows down
and the radio all the way up.
The dust from the gravel in the rearview
reminds you where you’ve been
and the stars remind you that you
are exactly where you need to be.