This is legitimately the third time trying to start and finish a post. I am honestly upset with everything. you hit a save button and the computer and software supposed to save. I do hate technology because of this. as I write on a computer. attached to the internet. its frustrating so much that it is discouraging. why am I going to write something when its going to be deleted anyway. the worst is that I cant even remember what I wrote about. this is why I use paper first to

Courage I think is scary. You become courageous and provide an action without really knowing what could happen next just knowing that that’s the decision you want to make. When I was, I think 7 my neighbor and my mother got into a yelling match over something with the backyard. My mom I think got in his face or personal space and he pushed her down. It felt like I glided down the steps because at that age the abuse hadn’t started and that was my momma. I got to the back door,

For me, I have a voice inside my head that tells me whenever I have an opportunity to kill myself I should. Standing on a ledge, “just jump off” whispers in my head. Driving around a fast corner, speed up and spin into a tree. I work on small aircrafts. What if you just slipped off the aircraft getting out of the cockpit. How close can you get to the intake before you get sucked in, try it. On the ship, its only 35 feet you cannot die…. if you do it right, try it. Sitting in

Do you have to be memorable to write a memoir? Well known or extraordinary to be able to have a memoir? I think of this often with the impact I want to make on the world. Is making a difference in a small forgotten town enough? Am I even considered extraordinary? Everyone has a story to tell, is my self-discovery journey worth telling to anyone who will listen? What will I be known for, smiling? Falling asleep easily? Being the person with a story for everything and ideas sca

I wrote the following while stuck in this limbo of wanting to give up begging for medical treatment and accepting my fate as permanent. I didn't know how to voice to my therapist or neurologist about what I was going through. I always think about editing the grammar for this piece, I feel that the scattered bit of it adds to the conveyed feel of the piece. During my recovery I was still working full time. Thoughts in a split seconds knocked from my brain  I opened my eyes to

I was reading “How to Tell a Story” by the Moth Group. I’m on page xix of the introduction. It suddenly occurs to me that before I moved to Maryland and then joined the Military, everyone in my town and neighboring towns knew who I was. they didn’t know my name but they knew who I was or what I did. I first was everywhere, bars, businesses, coffeeshops, and just around. Once I turned 21 and could go to my friends’ performances, I started performing myself. I was out volunteer

Teenage me never thought I would live this far. I was under the impression that I would die early from something...mostly myself. My...

flame. Can be destructive, or constructive. A flame itself can manifest into something that brings warmth, cooks food, provides light,...

Something I used to say going through school "failure is not an option". What I mean by that is I was working three jobs, with a car that...

sometimes I go through phases where I am incredibly attached to an Idea. and then gets to a point where that idea is a chore. I don't...