I haven’t been able to finish my third notebook. For quite a while, I could manage to crank out a poem every day, a blog post every week. I pursued all corners of the arts, attempting to leave no rock unturned. And here I am, one year later with dozens of empty pages in a beautiful…

There are these points in a person’s life where they think, this is good, this is right. And that’s when you have everything to lose. Pessimistic? Yeah! Sounds like it! But really, think about it. I’ll never forget my encounter with an old Argentinian man, strumming his guitar and singing in the middle of Cambridge.…

What is there to speak of on a rainy afternoon? I don’t know about you, but this weather never fails to make me tired. There’s something about the rain that holds no expectations for you. You see, sunny days are just begging to be used. If you don’t fully enjoy a sunny day, there’s this…

Here lies a snippet of Sunday Night ponderings. If you hate Sundays as much as me, I hope this distracts you for a bit.   I find it strangely amusing how people never seem to be content with the point of their lives that they’re in. When you’re young, you want to be older. When…

Photo by Jake Bolling   Is your life a work of art? If I were to answer that, I could see my life as a plastic knife stuck in a brick. Someone would look at it confused, probably laugh at how odd it is, but would completely forget to look in the background. Back there,…

We are scared to tell the truth. That’s as much honesty as many will admit. From then on, it’s grinding teeth and tightening fists. How much honesty is too much, though? And why don’t we ever reach that point? High school reminds me of politics. I go in, say hello and smile, trying to get by…

Do you ever think sometimes, that the world owes you something? That whatever being or thing you believe in is watching you with a timer, waiting for your suffering to finish. Almost like waiting for brownies to bake, but it’s never quite ready yet. It’s silly to think that at first, but it’s a bit…

I hold a love for writing letters that continuously grows with age. But what I sometimes forget is that they’re meant to be read too. I find myself writing to strangers, friends, and often, myself. I hardly ever send them out, frankly, they just thicken my notebook until I know it’s time to get a…

I possess a lot of fear at the moment. I see myself in the thick of a storm that holds no prediction I can trust. But that does not stop the continuous momentum of time we are all trapped in. As much as I wish I could, I cannot hibernate until I wake in an automatically successful…