The Letter I Never Sent
I'm just... reeling over the fact that someone so talented, so beautiful, and so capable of good things can be so... needlessly ugly and hopelessly shallow.
Latest
An untitled post about a friend that died yesterday.
"I deal with my pain by writing."
That is how the original draft began. This is what I said to my girlfriend an hour ago.
It's still true.
And it's been a week. A typical, stressful week: I had 17 dollars to my name
TBT: Hey Friend
Throwback Thursday: this was originally written Wed, 31 May 2017 01:00:50 +0000, on the VerboseTerse instance of this blog.
I wonder about you a lot, especially when I'm writing. I followed all of your blogs and keep coming back to my favorite posts.
Wondering things, like:
The Name
For six months, I could not think of a name for this blog. I wanted something serious, something profound, poetic, something that'll be read and send a shiver down someone's spine. A lingering, deep impression.
That turned out not to be the end result and I
"I'll be dead and no longer around."
So I am 34 years old, now. And ever since No Doubt's Return of Saturn album was released, I played "Six Feet Under" at least once on my birthday.
I thought I was going to be unbearably sad today. That I was going to pass today
