Prancer and I have spent the last couple weeks being poked and prodded and stripped bare.
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I’m not sure if it’s just my luck but I always seem to sit in the back of the plane.
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I once met a pair of eyes that seemed to carry oceans of kindness
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To spend the rest of your life with what could’ve been seems like the very worst thing one could do to their soul.
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It’s bizarre to me that the same mind that has the capacity to create sadness also exists to create joy.
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My heart feels concaved in my chest.
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Holding joy and achiness in your heart is truly acrobatic.
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I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I am too forgiving of a person.
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How is it possible for your smile to exist so completely while your heart is shattered in your chest?
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I never thought you’d leave but maybe that was my greatest flaw.
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The first time my bare feet touches the soft, dewey grass of a spring day, my heart takes flight.
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I took a yoga class on the second to last day of this year.
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What I wouldn’t give to be a bird right now.
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A squiggle of a finger and a press of a button
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My heart feels as tender as my feet did not long ago.
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Ping pong balls of rain bounced off the windshield before falling to the ground.
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It’s as though my heart is made of taffy and sharp hooks are digging into it…
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When I returned to the US after a two month hiatus through Europe and Africa, living off the pack on my back, I was overwhelmed by the stuff I had.
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It hit me very hard yesterday that this piece of my life—at least actively—has come to a close.
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When I was in fifth grade, I had a teacher who taught me more about the world than any other educator I’ve ever had.
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