A Tattoo of a Quill


March 2017


"Hello!" No, delete. Too eager. "Hello" No, delete. Sounds formal "Hey!" No, delete. What kind of conversation starter is that. "Hey, how's it going?" Ugh, like you don't say that literally every day. "Man, work today sucks! Hbu?" No, god... Continue Reading →


A Brief and Incomplete History of Obsession

I never really learned how to be friends. When I was younger, my friendships were obsessive, consuming. I had a group of girls that I liked, and one friend who was my everything. In elementary school, that girl was named... Continue Reading →

Veronica and the dragon

  I do battle the dragon. The battle is constant. I fight with my bare hands, scraping and clawing, with such belligerence that I hurt myself more than it. When I walk away, which is rare, I am bloodied and... Continue Reading →

My Pet Dragon

There is a dragon that lives inside of my chest, just above my heart. Even though he is curled behind my ribs, I can hear him breathing, coloring my blood with smoke. I have lured him to sleep, with the... Continue Reading →


My dad hates small animals. Rodents, mostly. He’s a big man and mostly fearless, but when we kids chose to keep guinea pigs and rats as pets, his discomfort was palpable. He always warned us not to let them loose... Continue Reading →


It was lost for a while. I thought for a long time that friendship was a thing for children, something you grow out of, like shoes, or Easter egg hunts, or god. In childhood, it was companionship. It was also... Continue Reading →

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑