Keeping busy. (Found in a journal from last May.)

It’s generally good to keep busy,┬ábecause people get less worried. In the end, though, depressed is still depressed, and there’s only so much to do, which usually comes down to deciding between waiting it out or some sort of therapy. I’m generally the sort who lays low, rides it out, because I know that whether […]

Minutiae.

An old man is staying at the hotel where I work. He towers over me, but he’s frail, with an impressive beard and a limp so pronounced that he uses a wheelchair to go visit his wife, staying in the ICU of the hospital next door. He laughs at my mistakes with his Jewish relatives […]

Woven scrap.

You’re woven in my soul, and I want You to show how to leave all of this behind, teach my bones how to grow. You’re the parent that hangs behind, letting us make our mistakes, hoping for the best and trusting in our ways. My anxiety makes no sense, and I live in states of […]

Cereal Journal.

The only one you can trust, I keep hearing, is yourself but I find this questionable – there are many people more trustworthy than me, people who don’t invariably sleep through their alarms, who prepare for their physics midterms by studying rather than tucking their feet beneath them, seated on the floor eating cereal, writing […]

The World Outside of Michigan is an Unusual Place. Perhaps this Means that Michigan is an Unusual Place.

If I had my way, you’d be home from LA, knock on my door and we’ll take turns on the floor, and maybe we’ll find something about the West coast worth liking when you’re no longer out there feeling like dying. I’m starting to not quite recall the geography of the faces of my friends […]