The Infinite Starr

reflective writing

  • The Conference Room

    There is no time to sit idle when the world is spinning round and round. She arrived carrying a suitcase, a laptop, and a mind that had no intention of staying where her body had been placed. The hotel lobby buzzed with polished shoes gliding across marble floors, rolling suitcases announcing new arrivals, and conversations…

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  • Borrowed Things

    Maybe it is just boredom that has brought me here, tired of human suffering. Not because suffering is unusual. Because it repeats itself with remarkable dedication. I sat watching people today and couldn’t decide what they were actually chasing. A better job. A bigger house. Someone else’s attention. An argument they intended to win before…

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  • The Birthday We Never Knew We Were Having

    Somewhere today someone is celebrating a birthday, but I truly wonder if they are celebrating the way they should. There it is again. The writer’s block. A great big stubborn wall parked right in the middle of my afternoon like it paid rent to be there. I stared at the blinking cursor hoping it would…

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  • The Woman Who Became a Cemetery

    Some people say the world has become kinder. I don’t know where they’re shopping. Because every time I walk through a grocery store, stand in line at a coffee shop, or watch someone scream at a waitress because the ranch dressing came out after the fries, I find myself wondering… When did people become so…

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  • The Stranger Living Between My Ears

    Somewhere along the way, we started speaking to the voice in the head in the third person. Not because we lost our mind. Quite the opposite. It happened because one morning, while standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth, the voice started talking again. You know the one. The running commentary. The…

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  • The Sweetness of the Dark

    Are the sleepwalkers afraid to go into the darkness? I think they are. Not because the darkness is dangerous. Not because something is waiting for them there. Because the darkness asks questions the daylight lets them avoid. The darkness is different when you’re strange. When you’re weird. When you’ve spent your entire life being told…

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