Raintree Ruckus

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emotional

A collection of 23 issues

aw fuck it's October again

This still counts if I post it on the very last day of October. Happy Halloween. I was hesitant to post this. Depression is a bitch. Whether it's pure coincidence, metaphysical weirdness, brain chemistry, or yet another example of my moral failings, the roughest time of the year

Beach

CONTENT WARNING: death, death mention This weekend, I saw someone die on the shore. The asterisk: it was very likely they died on the shore. But I hope they didn't. I was distracted-- trying not to lose the hat I borrowed-- when my partner noted a crowd gathering

shortcoming.

Like a lot of people, I've been in what's been called "Survivor Mode." You do enough to get through the day, most times by any means available to you. I feel like I have been doing that since I graduated college. Now, this happened

W.T.

On the shores of roped-off swimming spots I remember you from all the pens I never collected the contrast from the blue houses Complimenting the white trim I write in red tint Now more honorable, more informed I could have been On those still nights Beautiful with you I never

TBT: a braindump from 201X

Note: Please be aware that I am doing a lot better now! This was just so... raw... that I felt compelled to post it here. So I realized an uncomfortable truth over the weekend, while we were off doing our own things-- and I did mine, and it was great;

The Books I Left Behind

Do you ever think about The books you left behind? Every time you moved-- and then-- The very first move was an adventure to something greater. Our first real house, with a garage and and attic and my own room. The move after that, a grander adventure away from home.

Lately, my posts have turned to death. Here is yet another.

My grandmother was dying when I penned this post. There is a lot of what my mother bitterly calls it, drama, concerning the surrounding circumstances. But most of it is not important; what matters at this moment is how she does not want any of this drama when the time

On people that died (maybe) when I wasn't watching.

I can't find her on Facebook anymore. She hasn't updated her blog or Twitter. She never answered my WhatsApp message. I think she is gone. I haven't said goodbye in over 15 years. And I don't know how to feel about this.

It's been a week, and I haven't written.

I was on vacation last week. Before, I made plans: to fix things around the house we've been putting off, to play video games, to talk to people, and to write. Before and during, I also focused on making my space feel more like "me." That

The last train home.

"Whoa," I said, sitting up a little as the credits rolled. "I haven't heard that in forever." "What song is it?" he asked, shifting under my head. We had been binging Jojo's Bizarre Adventure for two hours and Netflix'

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