metaphysical writing
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There is a place in Texas called Uncertain and honestly the name fits better than most people realize.Uncertain sits out there in the middle of nowhere fast surrounded by weeping cedar trees, bayou water, old stories, and generations of “don’t ask” and “don’t tell.” The kind of place where secrets sink deep into the dirt…
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What you do with your body every day is a message to your mind about who you are. Not your affirmations. Not your Pinterest board. Not your “new month new me” speech typed out at 2:14 a.m. while eating shredded cheese over the sink like a rat with unresolved trauma. Your body knows the truth…
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There is a strange kind of person in this world that thinks being ugly is a strategy. Not ugly in the face. Ugly in the spirit. The kind of ugly that smiles in your face while hoping your life falls apart quietly enough that nobody notices they wished for it. The kind of ugly that…
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There is something almost poetic about watching entitled people meet consequences. Not dramatic consequences. Not lightning bolts from the sky. Not some cinematic downfall where violins start playing while they fall to their knees in a grocery store parking lot screaming into the void. No. Real consequences are quieter than that. They arrive slow. They…
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“I am a version of you.And you are a version of me.” That is the part people hate hearing. Because if I am a version of you, then somewhere inside your chaos lives the awareness you keep trying to outrun. And if you are a version of me, then somewhere inside me exists the same…
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The board is already set when you arrive.You just don’t remember agreeing to play. Black squares. White squares. Mirrors where bishops should be. Reflections where pawns swear they’re kings. Somewhere between the ranks, a voice says it’s stuck. Another insists the game is rigged. One piece moves.One piece explains why it won’t. The one who…
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You don’t choose who knocks.You only choose whether you answer. People return to the lighthouse door for reasons that rarely match the surface.Some come back because the memory of the light stayed with them longer than expected.Some return because the steadiness once offered felt like the first solid ground in a long time.Some arrive hoping…
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There’s a quiet shift that happens when you stop tugging on yesterday and stop rehearsing tomorrow.It isn’t dramatic.It doesn’t arrive with a lesson or a warning.It just settles around you like warm air in a room that finally remembers the shape of your breathing. Being here — right here — is its own kind of…
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You don’t know the exact second it happens.You just wake up one morning and something in your mind sounds… different. The old voice is gone.The one that used to replay memories, arguments, fears, to-do lists.The one that narrated everything like it was a problem to solve. In its place is something clean.Steady.Quiet in a way…
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(For more than a year I poured myself into a portfolio for art school. Only the pieces that felt closest to my truth made it in, and even then I wasn’t sure any of them were good enough. A panel of professionals would decide if I was worthy of a seat. I remember pacing the…
