I like you, you perfect person you, with all your flaws. I like you.
That imperfection is what makes you, you. Your value is not in being perfect, but in being perfectly imperfect. Yes, I said it.
Category Essays
Daniel, Daniel Quite Contrarial, How Does Your Garden Grow?
This struggle to pull order from the chaos is much harder than I expected. It's taking longer than it used to. I'm not as young and strong in the garden.
I AM The Writer. I AM The One Who Writes
I sat in the dark the other night, sometime around 2:40. My fridge hummed a low Db, like a bass looking to start a quiet barbershop rendition of Baby Got Back. I sat in the dark because I couldn’t sleep.…
I Broke My Tooth And It Keeps Biting Me
I broke my tooth two weeks ago sitting on my couch while watching a YouTube video and noshing on a bit of dark chocolate. I read somewhere that dark chocolate has flavanols that boost nitric oxide, which relaxes the blood…
Twenty-One Boxes Of Everything And Nothing
Having moved the big tree box and remaining sealed totes, we saw some mouse droppings here and there along the floor. Which left the pile of boxes. Hal looked at me, a hint of doubt along his brow.
Love Is Not A Feeling
Love is not a feeling. It is generally associated with good feelings but in itself, is NOT a feeling. Because if Love were a feeling, it would be a very fickle reality and those who construed it as such would…
The Machine Says I Wrote This. You Still Have To Decide If It’s Any Good.
Flock cameras proved with 100% accuracy that Chrisanna Elser stole a package from a porch.
Flock got it 100% wrong.
I’m Sick Of The Online Performance. I’m Also The One Performing.
"We crave connection. Something real. Words that make us feel something—"
Oh, I was feeling something.
The Man Who Set My Number Doesn’t Exist Anymore. I Keep Failing Him Anyway.
I'm fat. Fat-ish. My wedding band doesn't fit because I got married ninety-five pounds ago...fat.
Six Months Of Working My Ass Off And I Couldn’t See The Progress
I watched my body in the mirror while swinging my kettlebell yesterday. Back between my legs, explode up to face level, back down, and up again. Over and over. Thirty-five pounds of controlled violence. Six months of work to get…