What began as personal essays is becoming more intentional. From here on out, this space will be called Studio Notes | a place where I think in real time about resilience, reward, ambition, and wanting more than I was handed.

Where I’ve been offering Pieces of myself, I will now be examining the whole.

More process. More honesty. Less polish.

If you’ve ever felt capable in public, and complicated in private, then you’ll probably feel at home here.

I’m glad you’re here.

k.

Most, if not all of the decisions I make are due to how they’ve molded me. I’m not sure that’s a good thing when it comes to the ones that haven’t necessarily molded me for the better.

I want to be soft. Not necessarily a “soft girl era” but a soft girl life. I want to be tended to as if I’m a beautiful flower that needs tender care to be able to live her best and most beautiful life.

I’m able to notice the moments more though. Where my guard is completely down, where I am not in survival mode. Where I feel the most comfortable. Where I am able to just be. There aren’t many…and that’s probably why I’m able to notice them more now. Sure I can tend to myself, but having someone who wants to do that, to be in my world in that way…is what I crave.

For a long time, I’ve been leery of anything having to do with relationships. They just don’t work for me. Maybe I’m bad at it, maybe I’m always dealt a horrible hand when it comes to them. Who fucking knows. My heart has taken enough beating. But recently, something made me act on how I felt with someone. As I write this, I’m trying not to judge myself, trying not to kick myself for…feeling. But because of the connection that was obvious, I figured it made sense to explore it. I hadn’t felt this way in such a long time. It wasn’t lust or love…it was interest. I was interested in knowing everything about this human. I don’t know what it was…maybe a bit of everything but somewhere in my comfort level around him, I wanted more. Everything in me in this very moment is cursing myself out…damned near berating myself. The hardened version of me. The version who has been bruised so many times in the attempts to let her guard down.

I told you to leave it be. Let someone pursue YOU.

Well…yea, but this connection was new to me, and I wanted to experience as much as I could of it. I’ve become obsessed with the moments…living in them, remembering them…

I want to be a moment for someone.

I want them to think of me and think to themselves…I need more of that in my life…more of her.

It might seem ridiculous to some, but it’s not to me. I may never utter these words outloud, but writing them for people that I don’t know seems more comforting.

I can’t help but to feel dumb for allowing myself to be that comfortable, and I sabotaged it because if it’s one thing I’m sure of, I will never let someone feel like they can give me scraps of attention and it be ok. If you’re interested in me, and tell me that…there are actions that go with that, and silence is not one of them, consistency is. Communication is absolute and without it, there is room for me to think things that may or may not be true, and start believing them. If I’m left to my own devices, I will self-sabotage every single time.

Now, am I feeling it? I am. There’s a sadness that I’m having a hard time shaking…an understanding that I allowed myself to be vulnerable, against my better judgment, and the result was not one I thought I would be experiencing at the moment.

It didn’t feel good, but because of my past experiences, I had to put that boundary in place. That’s the growth. Doing something I had to, to protect my peace. In my case, caring often costs too much and as much as I wish I didn’t have the inkling to self-sabotage, here we are.

Over the years I’ve offered my value to people who didn’t hold it properly…mismatched capacities. I can tell myself that actions or non-actions of others are indicative of the type of person they are all day, but it in my mind, it always seems to come back to me.

Did I do something wrong?

But how can you know what the result will be if you don’t try? It’s as if being caught between a rock and a hard place. Fighting these battles on my own…in my mind… is becoming harder and harder.

Lately, I just lay and cry in silence, sometimes against my own will. I don’t understand a lot of what my life is supposed to mean. I don’t understand a lot of it. What are all these experiences shaping me to be? A lonely old lady who has barred her heart from the world? A woman who has to overanalyze her thoughts and feelings because she feels like she just can’t get shit right?

FUCK.

I don’t even want to get it all the way right, just a little bit right…enough right that I know that I at least know how to do something right.

Maybe I’m too much of a romantic. Maybe it’s silly of me to want to kiss someone in the rain, or want to surprise someone with that thing that they’ve been dreaming about or have been wanting for a long time, or to have him call me from outside, just so he could have a kiss before he goes on about his day.

To be considered. Cared about. Loved.

Indifference is what I feel in this moment now. Indifference. And I’m not sure that’s a good place to be.

Things of note this week:

• I stopped going to movies often because my knees hate being in one place for too long, but I’m finding my way back to theatre more and more. I’ve been trying to find the things that keep me soft and serve as reminders of who I am, what I love, and how I feel. They’ve been the thing to keep me inspired to write my scripts, create my stories, and bring those stories to life. It’s also been my reprieve from the constant day-to-day noise that I’m dealing with in my current circumstances. It keeps me from losing my shit at times because I’m always on the edge of darkness.

• I’ve been sleeping more than I’d like and when I notice it, I’m usually waist deep in depression, but have likely been trying to fight it off. It also has to do with not being able to find a job and constantly having the conversation with myself that I don’t think it’s meant to be working in an office anymore - because there’s no way that I’m not getting calls with the experience I have. So maybe it’s a sign that I’m supposed to writing or creating full time. But…money.

• I’ve been trying to look myself in the mirror these days and tell myself that I love her, but that’s been hard because it always turns into “what is your malfunction?”

Fave read this week:

• my love language is not having to ask - by mixtapes by gor (Easily one of my favorite writers because I can count on finding the words that express how I’m feeling on any given day, perfectly.)

In case you missed it:

• I wrote a note on the types of pieces that I’m interested in reading and to my surprise there are many of you who feel the same! There are so many gems in the comments, and I’m trying to find time to read them all, but if you’re looking for your tribe, you might find them here.

km.

“i don’t know.”

it may have very well been the most honest answer he had, but it infuriated me because he had single handedly made me start to question myself and my worth while with him. and while i won’t get into that, it made me wonder…what is it about me that would make someone unsure of me…that would make someone question whether or not i’m worth whatever they are weighing in their mind? have i not shown you loyalty, care, interest? have i not been vulnerable…open, and honest?

perhaps too honest - some want honesty, but i now understand that not all can handle it.

do i want someone to risk it all for me? sure, sounds good, but highly unlikely. do i want someone to come into contact with me (that i actually like) and recognize what they could have and/or experience having me in their life and make the decision, without a doubt, that they want parts? yes (not for the wrong reasons, obviously).

there’s something about being unsure of me that cuts me deep. it doesn’t feel good and puts me in the mind frame of not being good enough for this or that. i don’t like that feeling of why not? i will never ask the unsure person why not, but i internalize it…i’m internalizing it.

in this moment i’m feeling a sadness that i probably can’t explain as well as i’d like, but it kind of breaks my heart. i’m being put in a box with limitations. i’m so much more than my work. i say that because i’ve been put in that box too, and to feel like my work is valued more than the actual experience of who i am is disheartening to say the least.

i am trying not to retreat, but i recognize that i need to tend to these wounds, because…that’s what they are, and they hurt. that’s what this moment is, recognizing that and fully feeling what comes with it…trembling while trying not to cry. feeling my heart close off, and feeling my guard go way up again. i feel things deeply.

gift and a curse.

km.

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Coffee refill

as i move through the days, i've been paying excruciating attention to the details…how things make me feel, what feels good, great, and terrible. what triggers me in good and bad ways, and what feelings i wish i could experience forever.

i finally pinpointed it.

when i was 1000% present in whatever i was doing, wherever i was, and whomever i was with…it was the moments where i was truly locked in. being present in a space or with someone…laughing until our sides hurt, being aware of what wasn’t being said and being on the same page. fully experiencing our surroundings.

i’m starting to collect the moments that stand out to me, to keep a record that i can always go back to when i need a reminder of what made me feel alive. the things that remind me that i was present in those moments…not anxious or worrying about this or that, success, lack of, finances…i was free from all of those things…at least for a moment.

this new column is for these moments, something that i’m hoping will bring me to the page more often than not.

001

people were still finding their ways to their seats as i mulled over everything and nothing at the same time. i didn’t see him on stage yet but found myself slightly anxious because i wanted to.

i waited.

nothing. everything.

everything. nothing.

processing the day and how good it’d felt in my spirit.

he stepped out onto the stage from behind the curtain - i pressed my lips tightly together because my teeth wanted to put on a show.

his eyes found mine from across the room and they’d felt like they had a one way ticket to the depths of my soul.

i saw nothing else. i heard nothing else.

we could’ve been anywhere in the world and in those seconds, it wouldn’t have mattered.

my insides burned as i struggled to keep my body still.

how can one look do this, i wondered.

his eyes had found what they were looking for. and as he took his seat, everything about my being smiled.

km.

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The music was distracting, but so was his face. I was trying my best to lip read but found myself entranced watching his lips move. I had no idea what he was saying.

“Mmmhmm.”

I was exceedingly aware of our touch. Arms grazing, the weight of our knees seemingly glued together while trying to figure out what to order. I was about 80% present. The other 20? Well…I was going down the rabbit hole of shoulda-woulda-couldas, what if’s, I wish I’ds, and wishing his voice didn’t sound so…necessary.

The spot wasn’t packed, the energy was good in the space and the bartender was attentive. I’d needed a distraction so I kept my fingers in my hair as I desperately forced myself to being 100% present.

You ever come across someone in your life who is literally the only person you can talk about certain things with? Where you’re so comfortable with each other that you wonder what the reason has to be that you two are connected in this life? Yea well…I’ve stopped trying to figure it out.

All I know is that his lips were distracting the entire fuck outta me and I had to will myself to be an adult and not feel like I just had to have everything that I wanted.

But did he want to kiss me too?

Not likely.

That helped me snap out of my shit. I focused more on us in the environment and the course of the day’s events that had brought us to this moment. I definitely didn’t expect to be here, in the middle of the night, having a long overdue catch up on all the things that have grinded our gears since the last time we spoke. My mind started to stray to the why we keep crossing each other’s paths like so. Out of all the people that I’ve come across in my life that I presently could not give a lesser fuck about, this is the one that I’ve always given two fucks about through every emotion, at any given time.

I was fine in my bubble. It’s where I don’t have to think about the past or anything that feels uncomfortable, or that hurts, or anything that has to do with feeling, period.

Perhaps this was all a lesson in karma. Maybe she’s finally caught up to me for the times I was reckless with other people’s feelings because I was too busy worrying about my own, and this was about showing me another way that I would not get my way.

Joke’s on her though because I no longer operate on emotion (or at least I don’t think I do,) or say all of what I’m thinking or feeling. The fear of rejection stopped that a long time ago, so this version of me is much more subdued, that looks at most, if not all things like “okay, cool.” The shitty part of that, if I’m being honest, is that I don’t look for or expect a happy ending with most things now. Likely because it’s never happened so I’m thinking this is how it’s supposed to be?

Who knows.

Who cares.

Stepping out of the bar felt like stepping back into reality as we walked. The streets were quiet, the breeze was warm, and exhaustion had begun to set into my bones because we’d walked a couple miles that day. I can’t remember what we’d talked about then, but I do know that I was still focused on his mouth as he spoke and wanted to lay down and be the little spoon.

“I love you. Do you believe me?”

I was hesitant to respond because I didn’t trust myself in that moment.

“I believe you.”

km.

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She does favor this platform. She cleaned up her “timeline” and started checking out other categories like Luxury Travel, Fiction, Food & Drink, and it’s been making her experience here a bit more worthwhile. She stepped away mainly because of experiencing weird energy on here, and she knows that distancing herself is always in her best interest. She’s worked really hard to move through the shit that has always made her give zero fucks, as opposed to spazzin TF on someone.

I like to remind her that being the bigger person is a crock of shit and that sometimes people need to get cussed the fuck out, or punched in their fucking face. She will check a MF in a heartbeat though.

I love that for us.

I’ve been observing her in a different way lately. Not that different from how I usually do, but maybe paying more attention to the subtle things that I’ll typically purposely overlook or dismiss. Even though she’s in pre-production on a project she’s working on, she’s been withdrawn for a while. She’s always been the type who listens more than she speaks but now, the fact that she doesn’t speak much at all is much more noticeable. She’s a level of tired that I haven’t quite seen before and I’m not alarmed, but definitely paying closer attention.

She gives a lot of thought to not wanting to be the “cool girl” anymore. It stems back to high school - never lauded for her looks, but always for being “so cool.” When she got to college, the guys she liked always liked her bff, but always thought she was “cool.” After college? “So cool” - but not the type of cool that made one get to know her on more than a physical level though.

“Cool.”

Even here in her 40’s, she’s in disbelief that she’s still hearing it. She likes someone who sees her as cool and fuckable, and maybe even respects her talent - but she wonders what exactly it is that makes her not looked at in a romantic way. She feels like it’ll always be this way. People want to chill and work with her, but never to the point where they want to get to the root of what makes her, her. It makes her think something is wrong with her - though I tell her it’s not.

I tell her that often but it goes in one ear and out the other.

When I think about the totality of her…who she is, what she’s been through, and how her experiences have shaped her to be who she currently is in this moment - I think she’s one of the most beautiful people that I’ve ever come across. How she thinks, how thoughtful and considerate she is, how creative and talented she is, how she loves, how she works on herself endlessly to be better than she was yesterday…and again, how she thinks…I’ll be forever in awe of her.

She’s just…different.

I remind her that how we feel is what’s important.

I reluctantly remind her that she is loved.

I don’t like to argue with her on this because it’s very easy for her to fall into the familiar hole that we’ve been in all too often, and though I can be a lot for her, lately I am wanting only the best for her.

She struggles in knowing her greatness, and wanting someone to see her greatness and to be vocal about telling her so. She’s given up on “love” and everything associated with building a life with someone. We’re thinking that ship has sailed.

There are people that are supposed to come into your life to make you better. In our case, there haven't been many. She wants to be better. She wants to come across the people that will give as good as they get - that will pour back into her without a second thought in the same way that she does with no hesitation.

Feeling used is what she’s been pondering these last few days and it’s been doing a number on us.

Feelings of rage.

Quite frankly, when people just take, take, take, from her I want to put bullets in their heads. She has a bad habit of believing that people will treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’ve told her time and time again that people are shit and she needs to expect the worst from everyone but she fights me tooth and nail on it.

One thing we agree on is that we don’t see any of the things she’s always seen for herself happening. Her faith wanes. I tell her that believing in something you can’t see is crazy. She’s finally starting to listen.

Finally.

I’m the one she can lean on. I’m the one who will never leave or disappoint her but she has this thing where she’s holding on to “a soft place to land.” What even TF is that. We’ve never needed that.

Your nervous system is fine, what are you even talking about.

I like that she has this edge to her - she gets that from me. =) But she wants a “softer” life - a place where she feels she can just be, and be loved and adored out loud, and a place where her talent reaches heights she never even imagined.

I like us in survival mode. It keeps us aware, on point, and ready for anything.

Though…I do understand how it’s been eating at her, changing her in ways that she doesn’t care for, giving her the edge that she absolutely doesn’t want - but I feel it’s necessary.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m getting a little soft on her. Listening to her more. Fighting her less.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

Let me go…I just know she’s gonna flip her shit when she sees this.

-West

It reminded me of a conversation I’d had with someone from my past:

“When’s the last time you were happy?”

Whew. After some thought:

“When my Dad was alive.”

That was over 22 years ago.

That’s wild as fuck. I’m chuckling as I write this because I’ve been on auto-pilot since. It makes me think of all the times that I’ve done the bare minimum as far as taking care of myself because I was thrown into the role of taking care of everyone else over the years. There’s a sadness that comes with that now, knowing I was unable to focus, hence neglecting myself in the process. Too many times I’d look for peace and validation in other people because I was unable to see myself clearly. Fuck.

I wish I could go back and hug that Katie over the years. She needed it.

She still does.

Though I’m wiser, and more grounded, there are times where I do still feel like I’m hanging by a thread. There have been moments and times where I feel like I still have no idea wtf I’m doing but the difference now is…I still keep going.

I wake up and choose motion.

And if I’m being honest, a lot of the time I don’t think it’s me doing the choosing, I think that God sometimes makes the choice for me…giving me the push on the days I contemplate for far too long about it.

I’m taking swim lessons.

Though I’m a Beach Queen, I’ve always had a fear of the water because I was pushed in a pool when I was a kid. Normal right? So when I do go to the beach, I go in the water, maybe up to waist height, then I’m outta there. I repeat as necessary.

Swimming is very similar to boxing to me in that that it’s all mental. I’m in my head constantly thinking about my breathing…when to breathe, when to breathe out, don’t hold my breath, don’t swallow water…it’s a lot. I’m a bit more comfortable in the water now, even though for the life of me my body refuses to acclimate to the water temperature so I literally shake like a leaf from the moment I enter the water, til the moment I exit.

I’ve always marveled at how people could just float in the water.

How do they do that?

But now I can.

Another mental thing for me is relaxing in the water. I relax, I can float. I tense up, I sink. Keep my chin up. Look straight ahead. Let the water cover my ears. Keep my hips up. Relax.

My mind immediately strays to not wanting the water to come over my face, in my nose…in my mouth. Stress…aka tensing up.

My instructor is the most patient and graceful man I’ve come across in a long time. I have anxiety about not getting it quick enough, and not wanting him to have to spend too much time with me when there are a couple of other people in my class. He has a very calming energy about him and talks me (and my fellow classmates) through it.

Naturally, I think I’m pretty terrible being very new at it, but my swim group is so supportive that it makes me want to do better. My classmate marveled at my progress, “you can’t see yourself!” She’s right. My goal is to be an Olympian level swimmer by this time next summer..because goals. I want to feel like a fish - no fear.

He counts us in to start whatever we are working on.

“3…2…–”

“--Wait! One second!” I shriek out of nervousness.

We all laugh.

He looks me in my eyes and starts the count over.

“3…2…1.”

I hold my breath and push off the wall. Streamlined hands, facedown in the water…kicking. There’s a moment of silence as I open my eyes and start to breathe out through my nose. The quiet in the water is peaceful, this…I love this. I stand up when I run out of air, or when I see my instructor in front of me.

*high fives all around*

I don’t know how it looked - but I know how it felt. Gliding through the water…I forgot about every and anything else. I’m having a hard time trying to verbalize it, but that is now what I am looking forward to anytime I enter the water.

It seems as if it took for me to start swimming to keep my creativity flowing. I now feel a constant need to keep moving in all areas of my life. Keep going to the gym (even on the days my body is exhausted from swimming), keep being disciplined in my diet, keep writing, keep creating. It’s almost as if I have a newfound sense of self…and I like it here. Break-ups have always redirected my focus back to myself because it’s just me now. I’m the one here still working to get through it. I’ve always had a shit hand when it comes to relationships, so I figure, if I bet on me, I’ll be alright - the end result can only be expansion.

I look forward to those versions of myself.

km.

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I’ve been sitting with God more because there are times in your life where you are reduced to the point where that’s all you can do. And though I use that time to  share my thoughts, fears, and tears, I do feel like I’m just talking to the particles in the air most of the time, and my words are just floating into a void of nothingness. 

I’ve been in isolation phases before and I’ll be honest, I don’t like it, and I feel like I’m in this space more often than I’d like. I’ve always felt like no one truly gets or understands me or it, and I feel like at this point I don’t know if I want anyone to because that would require me to actually talk to people…to share pieces of myself with people, and I don’t want to do that anymore (at least in person.) 

I tried a new therapist recently. She had to go. She would repeat everything I’d say and then tell me what I feel is valid. I know my feelings are fucking valid - let’s cut the bullshit and get into the thick of it. I know how it works, I’ve had over a dozen therapists in my life and I can tell you one thing, finding one that is a good fit for you is like trying to find a fucking needle in a haystack. 

But cool. I’ll be my own therapist.

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting and to be honest, I kinda feel like its been against my will because at this point I do not want to look at that things that have hurt me, that have broke me, that have had me in darkness for weeks…months…years. I feel like I’m being forced to, and since I no longer have any fight left in me…cool. 

I’m not a fan of the former versions of myself because I realize that I put myself in situations that would ultimately scar me for the rest of my life due to me not knowing my worth…not being poured into…not knowing how to best deal with my insecurities…and me feeling like I wasn’t being seen, only used. I worry that I just might not know how to navigate relationships with humans now because I only know life in survival mode. I don’t know how to be “soft.” I only know how to protect myself. 

I thought I would be able to be given the space to be soft in my most recent relationship. I was terrified to open up, but I found myself wanting to, and very slowly letting my guard down. There were moments where I’d felt my nervous system relax…moments that were very foreign to me. I was scared. Scared to give into the feeling of releasing my hypervigilance. Scared to give into this…softness…this feeling of thinking that I was with someone that would give me the space to just be, that would hold me as I am - spiritually, mentally, emotionally. It ended up being a situation where I should have listened to my gut from the very beginning…when I felt that this likely wasn’t for me but on the other hand, I was trying to be open, and thought that maybe this was a sign…or a test of my openness. 

The “relationship” lasted four months.

I’d attached myself to a narcissist who had fooled me in the beginning. The mask was beautiful though…he had me thinking that he really liked me until I realized I was ignoring the red flags. I walked away when I refused to subject myself to someone who decided that treating me like shit was the way the relationship was going to work.

I’d never gotten to the point where I could fully share my past experiences and relationships, and all the things that kind of molded me into a guarded shell of a person now. I’d never felt comfortable enough to do so. He judged me and my current circumstances. My timetable of sharing wasn’t good enough for him. Me feeling like my time and my heart was wasted at this point in my life, after doing so much work on myself makes me feel levels of violence that I know aren’t healthy but since I don’t want to end up in jail….

I hope he finds what he deserves.

I’m finding it incredibly difficult to take the best care of myself when my mental is deteriorating by the day. I don’t feel like myself, and I feel like I don’t look like myself. If you’ve been reading my work for a while, you know that I don’t like my face…I’ve always been this way, and at my age, I’m still just trying to accept what is. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize the person who looks back at me. The light...the glow I felt I used to have is gone. All I see is an exhausted soul who’s tired of fighting life with all she’s got. I feel like my dreams are so far off because I can’t see out of this chapter of life. 

And so, I sit in silence a lot. I walk a lot (my knees don’t particularly care for that). I think a lot. I think so much that I overwhelm myself…I give myself panic attacks and I feel as if the only person I can call is my Mom, because she’s the one who always picks up. It takes so much for me to get to a point where I pick up the phone and call someone, and when I do it’s because I feel unstable, unsure, out of sorts, and just need someone…but in the less than handful of times I’ve done that, no one else has answered the phone. 

I’ve given so much of myself over the years. I don’t have anything left. 

But let a nigga jump off a bridge because they can’t take life anymore, then everybody’s gonna boo hoo. 

Go figure.

I’ve been trying to create my own world within and am trying to keep everything out that does not make me feel good because I deserve to feel joy and happiness. I deserved to feel loved and adored. I deserve good things. Part of my mistakes have been looking for these things externally. Not in the way that I’ve gone out of my way to look for these things, but actually being a human and wanting to feel this with another human…wanting to be cared for, adored, loved, considered...

The effort I’m taking to do this for myself is…slow. 

How do I find the light in the thick of the darkness? 

I don’t know, and I no longer think that I have to have this well thought out plan to “fix” myself. I just make sure I do something every day...celebrating quiet wins which have been consisting of things like actually getting out of bed, getting on my yoga mat, even if I don’t do anything but lay there, not criticizing my body… 

“Keep going,” they say.

“You’re strong, you’re resilient,” they say.

“You got this,” they say.

It’s all filler. It’s what people say because they’re conditioned to say that. They think it’s the right thing to say but it all falls hollow because I HAVE kept going, I HAVE been strong. 

When your soul is tired, it’s a different type of tired. If you’ve experienced it, then you know - if you haven’t, I hope you don’t. I’ll be honest, I’m just tired of being here living this life. It’s not fun for me, and it feels like no matter what I do, or how I’ve pushed and really try to continue to push forward, that life is happening to me and not for me. Don’t get it twisted, this isn’t a woe is me post, this is me verbalizing exactly how I feel about my life. I’ve been taking care of everybody and everything for far too long and I don’t know what it’s like to be taken care of. Am I being punished? Am I just not meant to experience this my life?

Current read:

I was on a contract gig from Sept to April to cover a maternity leave, and from my interview stages, my manager made it known that we shouldn’t look at the contract with an end date. Over the course of 8 months conversations were being had about staying on permanently and in the 7th month, when I asked my manager what the status was of my contract (so I can know if I needed to start looking elsewhere) he told me that nothing was going to change. As we entered the 8th month I wanted to confirm so that I can do what I’d needed to do with my recruiter, he got really fucking weird and awkward and said that the contract end date was going to stay as is. Long story short, he could’ve just told me that he didn’t have the budget or headcount because he had known that weeks prior. 

It had taken over a year and a half, and hundreds of resume submissions to get that gig. I’d taken it because I figured I could make some money while still pursuing something more permanent. I’m 2 months post gig, at least 100 more submissions in, and nothing. Recruiters have nothing and I’ve grown tired of submitting because with all the denials I’m getting, I’m sure that it’s a sign that I shouldn’t be doing anymore corporate shit and should be focused on doing my writing and creative work. 

Sign taken. 

Writing it is. 

I say that to say that I will be re-activating my paid subscriptions on Juneteeth. Maybe my Substack is the way to go. I wanted to let you guys know in any event that you were a paid sub, and want to adjust your sub, or if you wanted to be a paid sub and weren’t able to. Either way, if you’re reading this, thank you for being here, and thank you for reading.

km.

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About a month or so ago Brianna posted that she was doing a book tour so naturally, I didn’t think twice about getting a ticket without realizing the details. I didn’t know if she was reading, signing, or what - I just knew that I wanted to meet her because I literally have all of her books (with the exception one, which is enroute) and she was going to be here in NYC.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that I actually looked at the details of the event and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the ticket included Brianna signing the new copy that came with it. No reading, just signing. I was excited!

I’d went ahead and cancelled my original pre-order and started thinking about where I had stored her books, because yes, I wanted her to sign all of them. Turns out I had three of them on hand, and the rest were in storage, which were easy to get.

Signing Day arrives.

The weather was decent early in the day here in NYC on February 28th. It was what I considered GotchaBitch weather, it seemed warmer than normal but I knew better - I put a coat on (over my t-shirt) because I knew I’d be out when the sun started to set. The line started at 6p, with the signing to start at 7p. I arrived at The Strand at 6:05p and there were already at least twenty people on the line ahead of me. Not bad, but what consumed my mind was how the fuck I was going to manage standing outside for an hour while the temperature started dropping and the wind started picking up. The wind didn’t seem to understand the boundary that was my coat because it found it’s way up and around every opening on that motherfucker with the intention to make me regret not putting a hoodie on underneath.

I was freezing. 

I’d started shivering around 625ish as the staff began to come outside and digitally check us in. They’d asked if we had any back-titles that we wanted to have signed, I told the young lady that I did.

“How many?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?”

“Seven.”

She gets on her walkie-talkie.

“Is there a limit on back-titles to be signed?”

“No.”

She readied her Sharpie and asked how to spell my name as she wrote it on her Post-it pad.

“Katie. I E.”

“Katie” she wrote. She got to the 5th Post-it and stopped.

“I think she’ll get the picture. Put these on the title pages.”

My anxiety started kicking in because I wanted the last two Post-its. They were there so Brianna could easily find the title page, see the name, and sign. Flow. And I was missing two. Would I hold my fingers at the title pages to open for her? Would I explain why I didn’t have two pages flagged for her? I hated this. I hate being unprepared. I didn’t want to be the girl who held up the line because two of my seven books weren’t prepped. 

Ugh.

When she moved on to the guy behind me (whose name I wish I knew), I started taking the books out of my bag to prep. The two women in front of me were staring at me. Rachel (I saw her one Post-it) says “Wow, you’re really prepared.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re right, I wish I was prepared too, I wasn’t thinking about it.”

We smiled at each other, while her friend, WhateverTheFuckHerNameWas, continued to stare at me like she was confused on why I had so many books. Did she not know all of Brianna’s work? Was she jealous that she’d forgotten her own? Who gives a fuck. I returned the stare until she about-faced. 

I was full on trembling because the cold was seeping into my bones.

Time check: 6:45p.

Here’s the thing about me, I don’t do lines. I haven’t done lines since college when I was going to clubs, and even then, not really. I haven’t stood on a line for an event or anything of the sort in years. I knew that if it had been a few degrees colder I would’ve left and picked up my copy within the week. I abhor being cold (yet I’m planning above to Chicago - go figure.)

The line started moving at 647p. They were admitting groups of five into the building to take the elevator to the third floor. We weren’t going into the front door of the bookstore, but entering through the building next door. I wanted to cry with joy as I walked into the warmth of the lobby and onto the elevator. 

I’d never been to a signing at The Strand but it made sense that the third floor was a floor used for these kinds of events, it wasn’t accessible to the public at that time for obvious reasons, but from what I gathered, there were certain days and times that the public could peruse that floor. It was a gorgeous floor…expansive with shelves of books extending the circumference of the room with the most perfect lighting. String and chandelier lights gave the room the coziest of vibes…absolutely perfect for this event.

The Strand be knowing.

There were quite a few people on the line who had a couple back-titles in hand…two, maybe three. I was the only one using both hands to hold mine. The guy behind me (was his name Kevin? Am I making that up?) was holding two, and we started talking about how we were so glad that we arrived when we did. I learned that he too, had been freezing his ass off. 

Time check: 7:01p.

A staff member asked a couple of the people on line to create a space so Brianna could have a pathway in. Someone who I’m thinking was her manager or agent, was flitting about with one of the meanest mugs I’d ever seen.

Like…girl, relax. It’s all gonna be fine.

Brianna walks out and makes her way to the desk and of course, we clap.

I found myself smiling so big which was surprising considering the state of apathy I’ve been in forever and a day. She has a very warm energy and a very comforting aura. I was happy that I’d came out. Another staff member was there if you wanted to hand him your phone for photos. You wouldn’t be able to go behind the desk to pose with her, you’d have to awkwardly turn towards him, while Brianna leaned forward into the pic with you. I immediately recognized how leaning back over the desk to meet her would destroy anyone’s spine. I didn’t want that at all.

I was next on line. I made sure my phone was camera ready and when I handed over my phone to the guy with great hair, I let him know that I’d be fine with just candids of us talking.

“I gotchu.”

I turned to Brianna with my stack of books and plopped them down in front of her. She smiled.

“I am so sorry for bringing all of them”

“No worries, it’s ok,” she laughed.

“I feel so bad holding all these people up, they’re probably like girl really?”

“No - they are wondering, why they didn’t do the same,” she whispered.

Cackle No. 1. 

As she starts signing the books, I had a moment where I felt like I wasn’t being rushed and that it was ok to have a moment (or several with her.)

“I’m feeling the need to tell you that 1Ceremony is a bit beat up because I was reading it on a speedboat in Columbia --”

Brianna cuts me off “—Ok you can just stop right there!”

More cackles.

When she got to the book The Truth About Everything, she dropped her jaw in awe.

“Oh! You’re really—” 

“–-Yes.”

We are just cackling twinsies at this point

The Truth About Everything was Brianna’s first book, it came out in 2013. So yes, yes I am.

Brianna’s sense of humor was just the thing I needed. What I enjoyed most about her is how she listened: the eye contact, the genuine interest…it was the first time I’d felt really seen in a really long time. It was my favorite way of communicating…being locked in. We talked about some other stuff that I’m going to keep to myself because they were moments that were special to me and you should always keep some things close to the heart. It’s nice to have things…moments of time, and experiences that are just for you.

By the time she’d finished signing all the books, we’d chatted for a few moments after and I thanked her, hopefully having the pleasure of seeing her again, and she did the same. Great Hair handed me my phone (which I’d totally forgotten about).

“I took a lot for you.”

“Ahhh, thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

He had a really great smile. 

Time check: 7:22p.

The frigid wait was worth it. 

I’m excited to dig into her new new:

What I really love about Brianna’s books is that they have served me in many seasons of my life. Sometimes some sat for months before I even picked them up, but when I did, her words were, and are always right on time. Like her books, meeting her in person was like a warm hug that you may have not known you needed, but realize you did, and are extremely grateful for it.

If you’re not familiar with Brianna’s work, you can find her here, or here.

km.

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I was going through the motions of separating myself from someone when I started reading Ceremony. I’d been in Columbia at that time to be in a wedding, and though I knew I had to be present, it was a book that I couldn’t put down because it was providing the calm that I’d needed for my spirit at that time. It soothed me in many ways so no, I did not want to put it down, even for the boat ride tour to three amazing islands. I ultimately had to stash it in my bag because I didn’t want it to get totally ruined by all the water the boat was kicking up.

P.S. - The lack of those two Post-its weren’t even a thought =)

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At some point I involuntarily started becoming one of those people who takes days to respond to text messages. I think initially, for me, it was an act of defiance - if you take forever to respond to me, I’m gonna take forever - and a fucking day - to respond to you. I don’t like it. The more and more I start to realize that how I feel about shit is valid…the more I’m starting to recognize what doesn’t work for me. Life happens to everyone. Authentic connections are becoming incredibly rare because moving on a surface level is safer.

Oh I’ll get back to her when I get back to her.

Yea, no.

It’s easier to keep up with people by their most recent posts or pics. The actual work of putting in the effort seems to be the work that people don’t want to do.

Adulting and having responsibilities makes it incredibly easy to isolate. I’ll be the first to do it - I don’t particularly like it, but I’ve had experiences where I’ve attempted to confide in people…be open, vulnerable…soft, and it backfired like a motherfucker, so now, it’s that much harder for me to share or confide in someone. I’m conditioned to isolate now. I’m conditioned to keep people at arms’ length. I’m conditioned to try to figure out this life shit on my own.

I’ll pop out from time to time to see if the village that I’m wanting is feasible. So I’ll extend the branches a lil bit, and what I’m finding at my big age is - I’m not sure that what I envision is even possible at this point. Everyone is so self-absorbed that it makes me want to just wrap myself up, talk to myself, soothe myself, and just focus on…myself -aka- be more self-absorbed. 

I don’t have it in me to be the person orchestrating shit all the time, reaching out all the time, doing all the things…all the time. Nah. We not doin that anymore. 

On second thought…

Maybe I’m the one who’s seeing this shit all wrong. Maybe the idea of people having the same energy about me, that I have about them, is a farce. Maybe it’s a fantastical thought. Maybe it is, in fact, unrealistic. This makes me think about that time I was told by someone I was seeing that it was unrealistic to think that we’d see each other every weekend. Maybe I was wrong to assume that we would because that was the routine that had fallen into place at that time. But there was something about hearing that that really stung me, it didn’t feel good. It made me feel bad for wanting to, and intentionally setting aside that time for someone. It made me feel bad for being intentional. 

I’m just as busy as the next person, probably more if I’m being fucking honest, but I make the MF time for the things and people that are important to me, and the experiences or moments that I want to cultivate. I can’t say that I’ve had many of those experiences on the flip side. It could also very well be that I’ve placed too many a people too high on my priority list over the years because Lord knows that alone turned me every which way but loose. I don’t know what it’s like to be someone’s priority and I think that’s unfortunate.

I feel myself starting to become colder in many ways, in addition to being in a state of apathy that I feel like I’ve been in for well over a year. I can’t say that there is one thing that I absolutely love or love doing right now. I’ve lost interest in the things that I’ve always loved most and with the way that I’m feeling, right now, in this moment…I’m fine with it. I’m fine with it because I know that no one is coming to “save me,” nor, do I need to be saved. I know that if I make it out of this place, it would be because of my own doing. Something I’ve learned over the years is that no one cares about you and what you’re doing as much as you might think they are. To be honest, I feel like no one really gives me a thought unless I come across their feed here and there. And don’t get it twisted, I am FINE with that, but it just goes to my point of knowing that we are not as important to the masses as much as we might think we are.

I might talk my shit here and there, but I’ve always been humble. I’m known to downplay alot of things about me because in my mind, I wonder what it all really means - does it mean anything? Probably not. I just want to do what I want to do, express myself how I want, and live how I want. I don’t give two shits about what someone else has or doesn’t have because life is motherfucking hard and I like to believe that we are all doing the best we can.

But in doing the best we can, I’ll always believe that it’s important to have people because I now understand that we need people. So if you’re one of those people who take weeks to respond to someone who’s reached out to you for whatever reason, do fucking better and know that at the point that those people become unreachable…it’s on you.

What I’m loving this week:

Him.

What Felt Good (WFG) this week:

• Meeting, feeling seen, and cackling with Brianna Wiest. (that deserves a post of its own so stay tuned)

• Knowing that I have the ability to make anything happen, but also recognizing I get in my own way a lot.

• Considering making my way back to the stage.

What Didn’t Feel Good (WDFG) this week:

The passing of Roberta Flack, Gene Hackman, and Angie Stone. Every week we’re getting hit with something awful. 2025 is off to a horrible start.

What Annoyed Me (WAM) this week:

Too many posts in my feed about how to do something. How to make your notes go viral, how to write, how to be, how to make six figures writing. Stop telling people what and how to do something. Let people LIVE and discover what works and doesn’t work.

km.

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“Anonymity is going to be the new fame.” - Steve Stoute

I’ve been thinking about the days of skypagers and beepers and how we thought we were so cool, clipping them to our waists, the different colors, the different alert sounds…143’s…

I miss that. For the most part, I find myself wishing the internet never happened, and thinking about just how different our lives would be. Less comparisons, less depression, less questioning of ourselves and our livelihood. Less feeling like we always need more, less feeling like where we are isn’t good enough - or isn’t exactly where we’re supposed to be. 

 A few years back I deleted all my social media and lived offline. I wasn’t in a good headspace and scrolling made it worse. As a result, I’d felt lighter…less stressed in many ways.

It still has the same effect on me.

Everyone’s fucking highlights, everyone’s so successful, everyone’s so fucking happy, and in the perfect relationship. It seems like a constant reminder of all the things that I don’t have. It’s either that, or platforms like Twitter, which is toxicity at levels you couldn’t think were possible. 

I’m feeling like Privacy is the New Black. Doing less online is more. How were people promoting their work and their brands prior to the internet or social media? Radio, tv, brochures, ads…and I’m thinking unless you had enough bank for actual marketing, it was likely by word of mouth. That required talking to people. In person. With the internet and such these days, it kinda takes the leg work out of it…not that I wanna be doing a bunch of the physical leg work, but it removes the actual connection that you make with people, the connection that I believe needs to live before anyone even thinks about investing into you in any type of way. Whether that means supporting you and your work, or speaking your name in rooms that you aren’t even privy to. 

We now tend to rely on “likes” and “comments” for validation. We want to make sure that the pictures we post are pErFeCt, the filter has to go crazy, our writing has to be oh so grammatically correct. 

Nigga please. 

For what?

How many people on your Instagram watch every story and never say a word to you? Never interact, never hit a button or anything? Are these the people we are making sure our feed is so perfect for? 

Let me be clear, I understand the need for human connection - especially in the life and times we are currently living in, but it’s so easy to get lost in the shuffle on these social media streets. 

I’ve started to distance myself from most of my socials because I’m just overall losing interest in the bullshit. I have no interest in sharing every moment from my life to the world in that way because again…for what? I can’t be more invested into a stranger’s life more than I am my own. Social media steals the little joy I have and I want to hold on to that for as long as I can. I’m doing more of what actually feeds me. More of what makes me feel good. More of what pours into my creativity. 

Reading more. Writing more. Creating more. Sharing less. 

There’s a fine line between sharing and oversharing. How do we know the difference? I think you can feel it in your gut…at least I do. For me, it’s what I’m comfortable sharing.

Reads I loved this week:

• One of my faves, Odinakachi Nwonu, gets into the frustration of being addicted to her phone (I’m pretty sure most can relate)  on her post, Postcard on Addiction.

• I was privy to a conversation from another fave of mine, Jamal Robinson, between him and Langston Hughes (yes, that Lanston Hughes). I think it’s a conversation we can all relate to.

What Felt Good (WFG) this week:

• Seeing my ZZ plant start to root. I’m propagating a few because she is my fave plant. These babies come from her Mama, Sassy. I name my plants and you should too.

  

• I entered a raffle for the first time, and won.

  

• The peace I gained going to God this week.

• Making progress on my book. I’m really excited about it.

What Didn’t Feel Good (WDFG) this week:

• Fully understanding that no one is ever going to show up for me the way I think/thought they would. I always knew that, but truly accepting it as fact makes me sad as fuck.

• Needing to be held.

• PMS’ing.

• Knowing my job contract is coming to an end and the possibility of having to do more interviews makes me want to jump off a bridge.

• Feeling like I can’t be honest with those who are supposed to be the closest to me.

• Not knowing what the future holds for me.

km.

Author’s Note: I’m currently working on my website because I think it’s necessary to have your own place to house you on the world wide web, so at some point this Spring I’ll be pointing all my work over there.

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I stopped the last round in spring ‘24 because I didn’t like the side effects of those particular drugs. It wasn’t my first rodeo but when I start feeling like I can’t control my mental, I consider them. Again. I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact point in time where I lost my joy and I can’t help but to think that it may have been a bunch of moments, experiences, traumas, all wrapped up in one and then the next thing I know…smiles are something rare from me. My face is seemingly permanently pensive. Nothing feels light anymore.

Nothing feels right.

One of the worst feelings in the world is feeling like you’re drowning and you reach out to someone and they don’t pick up the phone. I’m not a phone person, so if I call you, it’s likely because I need you. To talk me off the ledge, talk me through a panic attack, or just to have someone show up for me by picking up the fucking phone. My mental has been screaming into the void. It’s not new, but it’s still very challenging for me to manage. Wanting…needing to say things but physically unable to because my mouth refuses to say the words for fear of appearing weak - or too vulnerable. Once upon a time I was able to be vulnerable with no fear but life has rendered me more quiet on that front at this point on my life.

I wish I could re-do the block of time from my 20’s to 40. Lately I’ve been analyzing everything and I wish my mind would stop (hence considering meds, again.) I’ve been so reserved in so many ways over the years due to being told “I’m too much,” “not enough,” and everything in between. There have been way too many experiences for my liking where I’ve felt like I’ve been riding for motherfuckers who didn’t ride for me, and in that feeling like I may have missed open doors or opportunities that were for me but I was so distracted that I missed them.

I know what’s for me is for me, but what IS for me? Where is it? Life has been feeling so fucking trivial to me and I can’t seem to get a fucking grip on it. I have a shitty life and I’m not gonna sit here and try to counterbalance that with the I’m so grateful bullshit. I feel how I feel. I shouldn’t have to verbalize one good thing if I’m feeling bad. I feel how the fuck I feel, and I think that if more people actually sat in their less than desirable feelings and acknowledge…and I mean really acknowledge how things make them feel, they’d be better off for it.

I don’t think that I have a grasp on how relationships are supposed to work because what I think and feel doesn’t ever seem to be…right.

I’ll start with friendships.

I’ve always required what I have always thought was the bare fucking minimum in friendships.

Effort.

I’ve always been the girl who did the planning, did the reaching out TO plan, always thought ahead, always been thoughtful. I’m not talking about with everyone, only the ones I deemed closest to me. There has been one, maybe two, over the years that have done the same. For everyone else, my expectations were apparently too high.

Or maybe I wasn’t communing with the right people.

Which could have very well been possible. And in those cases, I have tried to figure out what the lesson was there, other than me feeling like I wasted time on the wrong motherfuckers. I always hear and see “friendships are hard as you get older.”

But do they have to be?

I don’t think so.

Again, it requires fucking effort.

I have high expectations on a lot of things in this chapter of my life because I was often treated as disposable, or just something to do in the meantime. My levels of being understanding have greatly diminished because I am really on some how is this adding to my life type of time. Keeping relationships with people just for the sake keeping them…nah. I feel as if I’m evolving in that way. I was recently told that I need people, and yes…I agree.

But it has to be the right people.

I can’t have anyone around me that just takes up space. You’re not gonna just be around these parts. Fuck that. I’m not doing that anymore.

Though I question myself and my purpose on a daily basis - what I do know is, I bring value to any mf room I walk into. I’m highly aware of my aura, and how my energy shifts a room (in a good way) because at the end of the day, no matter what I’m thinking about myself, and how I’m still not at the place of believing that I’m perfect as I am, I’m still very much God-made, and so I subconsciously know I’m perfect as is. It’s the experiences that I’ve had that make me doubt that.

So yea, effort. It’s necessary. You can be married, have all the kids and a dog, work, and all the things - we all have shit going on - but you make time for the things that matter. And that goes for anyone, anywhere. I’m ten toes down on that.

I’m not a relationship expert, but I can tell you from my experiences what works for me and what doesn’t.

Time.

Heavy on quality time.

Having been in so many situationships, I know what I can and won’t tolerate in any committed relationships moving forward. And because I’ve been in so many fuck ass situations, though I have been committed to being and doing better, I’m still triggered very easily so if I feel any hint of doubt about me, I retreat. I was used to being treated as an I’ll see you when I see you, silently wishing for more, but settling for what it was. And for what? I blame no one but myself. My point is…if a nigga is serious about me now? Yea, it has to be right. It has to make me feel the exact opposite of what I’ve always felt, and to be honest, I can’t say there are many niggas out there who are willing to stand firm and work through the aftermath of the storms that I, and many other women have faced. Because why do that when there are plenty other women who require less?

They say you should “be healed” before you get into a relationship.

I agree to an extent, but I think the right partner will help you heal parts of yourself that you struggle with, and I also believe that you may need the right person to help you heal the right way. I do believe in being equally yoked, and I do believe that given the right partner, you can evolve into the best versions of yourself.

I’m just very…hesitant about relationships because I never think that someone could, or will always have my best interests in mind. I’ve actually never been in a relationship where I was really considered in any decisionmaking, or anything really. It was always more of a we’re together when we’re together, and when we’re apart we just go our separate ways and do what we need to do.

I do believe that there should definitely be my world, his world, and an our world, but the connection has to be there to be able to make all of those work like a well-oiled machine within the relationship. But then again, I’ve always been very independent so who knows the part that plays in everything.

I wonder if my understanding of people, relationships, and life are just off. Like in some strange way, I just always miss the mark. If so, I think that is fucking hilarious and I do love that about me. iiwii.

km.

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I’ve been trying to recall when I first started becoming obsessive about getting older staying forever young. Of course I know that’s ridiculous, but I'm realizing the culprit is social media and the obsession with looking youthful. I think that mindlessly scrolling Tik Tok and seeing all the products that “work wonders” started to seep into my subconscious, and the next thing I know - I’m hundreds of dollars in on skin care products, and all the things that will allegedly preserve my “youth.”

What a fucking waste of money.

Granted there are some products out there that do a lil something, but for the most part it really comes down to how you’re taking care of yourself. And to be honest, you can do the dieting, exercising and all that shit but I’m a firm believer in: if your mental isn’t right, nothing else will be. I don’t care what you do or how you do it.

I see how youngin’s online think that 40 is “old” and I think to myself “I surely hope you make it to 40.” At 46, I think back to when I was 30 and I’m like I really had no idea what the fuck I was doing. I feel like I’m only now starting to be who I am meant to be, or maybe I’m just starting to see the evolution of who I’m becoming. It really is a blessing to accumulate years.

Who I’m becoming is someone who recognizes that I’m not a nice person. I think that at some point in my life I was, but life has been lifing so much that that has changed drastically. I’m no longer giving the most authentic versions of myself to people off rip, nor am I going to give it to people just because I’ve kNoWn tHeM fOr sO lOnG. I’ve always been the person who was known to cut people at the drop of a dime, and in retrospect, I can see how I overreacted in some of those cases, and have even been flat out wrong in others - and those have been learning lessons, for sure. But let’s not get it twisted, some of those bridges definitely needed to be burned to the fucking ground.

I’m realizing that I’ve been too nice over the years…too considerate…too thoughtful…too caring.

I’ve given too many fucks, and placed a lot of mf’s in categories they didn’t deserve to be in. That’s when I was too nice. Keeping people close to the heart when they should’ve always remained at an arm’s distance. I loved people fiercely when they didn’t deserve to experience what that looked or felt like from me.

But you live.

If you’re lucky, you’ll come across someone in your lifetime who will challenge your perspectives and make you see everything from a different lens, but you have to be at a point in your life where you can be open enough to do so. It’s easy to stay in the space that’s comfortable for you, and sometimes that can will very much look like you getting in your own way.

And so, you learn.

I digress.

I used to be obsessed with how my body looked. I constantly trained, ran, worked out, and did every fad type of exercise there was. It stemmed from my high school years of being on the track team. I still wake up with the urge to run, so I don’t think that will every change. What’s changed is how I view myself. I’m caring less and less about having the “perfect” body. I’m accepting the changes as they come…begrudgingly, but still accepting. In the moments that I truly don’t gaf, there’s a level of peace that I experience that I enjoy immensely. Because at the end of the day, who really gives a fuck? We tend to think that people care, when the truth is, no one is ever going to think about us more than we think about ourselves. I’m not going to let any fit-fluencer tell me I need to do 47 exercises to get my gluteus minimus to pop, nor am I going to be in anyone’s mf gym 5 days a week because….

I no longer stress myself trying to get up at the crack of dawn to get a full 60 minute Vinyasa in.

If all I feel like doing is 15 minutes, so be it.

I’m no longer pulling the sides of my face back in an effort to see my younger self.

I’m lying like a motherfucker because yes the fuck I do, hence all these goddamned products.

I’s tide Boss.

I just want beautiful skin as I age. I want to feel beautiful. I want to look beautiful. I mean…I like how I look, I think I look ok. I like how I feel like I look better as I get older (fine wine?) I especially like all the freckles that have appeared. The little moles that look like birthmarks…not so much. Who’s the Head Mole in Charge because he can move on to the next 40 something year old and go crazy. I have more than enough that I didn’t ask for.

I’m trying to be ok with how things are at this point in my life. It’s hard. I cry a lot. As you can see, I truly do go to God as I am, and with how I’m feeling. I’m not holding back anymore.

Hear me. See me.

I’m letting go of a lot. People, places, and things. I’m keeping what I love and what loves me back. Books, writing, some new people, a couple of old ones, and working on staying in the moment. I want to enjoy life and I realize I keep waiting for certain things to happen, or for certain things to be in place before I do that.

That’s not fair to me.

Maybe all the things I want out of life won’t come into fruition, maybe they will. At the end of the day I have to be okay with the now. I have to find the moments that can sustain me until the next one. I’ve always wanted to be seen…I mean really be seen, on a soul level. There have been a handful of humans who have been so lucky (or not, depending on who it was,) But maybe I don’t need all the things to be seen, maybe I don’t have to do all the things to be seen.

Maybe I just need to curl up on someone’s chest, have my back rubbed, and fall asleep.

km.

Author’s Note: As always, thank you for reading! Other ways to support my work could be sending over some new reads or a java fix. Trust me when I say, both help immensely!

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then imagine letting someone in.

imagine going toe-to-toe with your better judgment and falling in love with someone, and after having been so fucked up by lOvE in the past that you’re desperately trying to fight what’s normal and comfortable for you (armor), to not block what could potentially be a blessing. imagine having anxiety attacks because sometimes you can’t verbalize how you feel. you know how you feel but you can’t say the words.

imagine feeling like you’re gonna self-sabotage the shit before it even starts out of fear. imagine feeling like it’s ok to not have to use your words all the time because you think you’re in sync with someone. imagine thinking that there are really some things that can be understood without being said. imagine being in a place that feels incredibly right, but somehow starts to feel unbelievably wrong. imagine starting to internalize and overanalyze things which makes you start to feel like you’re not good enough for this person person’s idea of what they really need in a partner to thrive…what they need to get to, and walk in, in their next chapter…imagine not seeing their vision. imagine being with someone and questioning your motherfucking worth. imagine starting to compare yourself and you know in your bones that you’ve left that type of thinking way way way back because you’ve worked really hard to.

imagine feeling like it’s finally your time to flourish in a happy and healthy relationship. imagine planning a life with someone…having the conversations that you’ve never had with anyone else because you knew they weren’t your forever.

the fucking planning dreaming.

imagine being the fucking joke.

my heart breaks.

i thought that part of my story was over.

i feel like i let myself down…feeding myself this whimsical, romantical fantasy, starting to believe that maybe, just maybe…it would happen just as i imagined it. i thought it was my turn.

imagine my Black love.

imagine having a soft place to land.

i feel myself slipping back into the familiar place of fiercely protecting my heart. it’s a dark place. it’s quiet. it’s wet…because you know…tears. it’s just me clutching my chest vowing to never let anyone in again because we just can’t take anymore. uncertainty. doubt. we can’t. we won’t.

i want to run out of tears. i’m tired of being reminded that i feel too fucking much, all fucking the time. i don’t want it anymore.

“there’s someone for everyone,” they say.

yea, fuck that.

km.

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1. I believe that the way someone talks to you is a direct reflection of how they feel about you. I’ve had experiences where I didn’t care as much as I should’ve when people would talk to me crazy and disrespectfully. I didn’t love myself much during those times, so it went unchecked. At this big age, having a better understanding, care, and sense of self…it’s just not gonna fucking fly. I can’t control what people do, but I can control how I respond. I’ll leave you right where you stand. I won’t tolerate it.

2. I often think about what the fuck could I have done in my life to be so unlucky in love. I used to blame the other party in past relationships, but in years of becoming more self-aware, I’ve taken accountability for the parts I’ve played in less than deserving and desirable situations. I definitely wasn’t an angel all the time, but what I’m starting to understand about some aspects of love is that, if you really love someone, you move with love. If your intentions are rooted in love, then your actions should be loving by default. I’m talking about how you interact with, talk to, etc. This isn’t to say that everything is gonna be all rainbows and sunshine, but I think that even in conflict, there must be love in disagreements, from how you disagree, to how you figure out how to come back to a neutral place with each other.

3. Sometimes I feel as if my faith is waning but I think that my wants and needs are just shifting. As the days go by, I’m caring less and less about “making it.” I just want to do the things I’d like to do and not have to worry about money. I’m finding that I want to spend almost little to no time on social media/internet. It’s become too much on any day. Too many opinions, too many motherfuckers being loud and wrong, too much misinformation, too many eXpErTs.

4. I think I am deserving of someone who accepts me. Not to be confused with accepting the bullshit that I come with (because let’s be fucking for real - everyone comes with bullshit,) but to accept me for who I am at the very core. I am highly sensitive, fiercely caring, dependable, a caring heart…I am fragile. Not as in I break easily, but that I am truly keeping all my shit together by a thread. I’ve worked really fucking hard over the years to not fall apart, but sometimes I really need a person to do that with and not feel judged. Sometimes a nigga just need to be held.

5. I don’t want to work anymore. I’ve legit been thinking about how I can actually do this without becoming a real life bum. I’m placing a lot of eggs in the basket for this book I’m writing. All good energy for this endeavor is welcomed and appreciated.

6. I don’t know what it’s like to be taken care of and to be made a priority in someone’s life.

7. I’m tired of having a full plate and the majority of the shit on my plate ain’t even my own shit.

8. I want to feel less guilty about wanting to take a year away from everything and everyone to just focus on myself and my goals.

9. I want to stop beating myself up over the fact that part of me does want a kid and I shouldn’t and won’t settle for someone who tells me that’s not an option for them. Even if I never have one, I’m entitled to the option.

10. I’m constantly worried about time: how’s there’s never enough of it and how it always feels like it’s running out. The ticking clock gives me so much anxiety that my eyes are burning just thinking about it. What if I never get to buy my Mom a house of her own, what if I never get to buy one, or five for me? What if I never reach a place of comfortability financially? What if I end up old and alone? What if I never experience the love that I’ve always dreamed of? What if I end up working for someone else til I drop dead? The list is endless…

11. I think about how I need to do more research on transporting the deceased from state-to-state. We have 3 plots in New Jersey where my father is buried. I get so fucking annoyed that I picked NJ - why didn’t I pick fucking QUEENS? But noooo, I chose a place that I have to pay tolls to get to. I should probably give myself some grace considering that I handled everything the best I could at the time. If I move my mom to another place and she passes there, I think about how I need to be prepared. I also think about how my Dad is laying there. In another fucking state. Alone. I know he’s not physically there, but this is what I think about…what gives me anxiety. The anxiety leads to guilt because I haven’t been there in a long time.

My thoughts are suffocating me.

Artwork sourced from Pinterest

km.

Author’s Note: I’m in awe that this publication is read across 48 states and 70 countries…wow. That warms my heart because I don’t think that I’ve ever imagined it would reach that far. To all my subscribers, and passing through-ers, THANK YOU. You could be doing anything, and reading anything, but something made you stick around to the end - I don’t take that lightly. I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for being here with me for a bit, and receiving these Pieces of Me. My God, there are so many that I’ll never be able to write about them all, but I will do my best.

Other ways to support this publication would be to add to my book collection (my Mom is sick of my packages, but I always get to tell her which books have arrived =), slide me some coffee and/or croissants, or by sharing this publication to a friend. Sharing is caring =)

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Until next time.

“If a man came into your life, wouldn’t you want to compromise?”

“For what? A relationship is a relationship that has to be earned - not to compromise for. When you fall in love - what is there to compromise about?”

~ Eartha Kitt

The above quote is from All by Myself: The Eartha Kitt Story (1982), the laugh above is her actual response to the question. It’s one of the heartiest laughs I’ve ever heard…it’s such a good one.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. The ins and outs of relationships, how people view relationships, and how that dictates how they are in one. I’ve always heard that you have to compromise in relationships…in marriages. And now I’m starting to ask myself why.

To me - compromise means that you aren’t going to be authentically yourself for the sake of someone else. That you are going to alter how you are, because of how you’ve been prior to that relationship. That you are at the very least, considering changing how you might think, how you speak, how you move, etc. That you are considering making yourself…different…to be more palatable for someone else.

How is that right?

How is that love?

I’ve mentioned before that because I’ve been single for so long that my idea of love and what it should look like, and how it would show up, is likely a fantasy. A culmination of fiction that I’ve read, and movies that I’ve seen that have made me feel…something.

Also read as: some shit that will likely never happen the way I picture it in my mind.

Recently I was told that I need to do better at relationships because I’m not very good at them and how I need people.

I had to take a moment because my immediate thought was to blow up the fucking car I was in at the time, but I’ve learned over time that my second thought is usually the one that is more logical.

“I know that.”

What pissed me off was that I’d just shared that I’d recently stepped out of my comfort zone and reached out to attempt to mend a relationship that I’d had with someone. I don’t do that. So for me, it was a big step and I was proud of myself for doing it, and had made peace with whatever the outcome would be.

I can count on one hand the amount of healthy relationships I’ve been in, and because there have been so few, the person I think about first in the majority of situations, is me. I’m the one who has to protect me, not because I’m expecting anyone else to, but because if I don’t, no one else will.

I would love nothing more than to hang up my battered shield, and permanently rest in my feminine energy, and be soft and just…be. But…

I’m scared.

I don’t know if a motherfucker will stay or leave, and I honestly don’t expect them to do one or the other because that would still be an expectation. And we all know the disappointment that comes with expectation.

This leads me back to the idea of compromising in a relationship.

Why would I do that?

Getting to know someone, is precisely that. Getting to know them. Getting to see how they are so you can determine whether or not HOW they are - works for you. Yes, our experiences shape us, and as we get older, we can be “stuck in our ways,” but I truly think that for the right person…the person meant for you…you would just want to be better. Not change who’ve you’ve been, but to continue to evolve into who you’re meant to be at that time, or for that chapter of your life.

That’s not compromising to me.

If I’m being honest, I’m tired of not waking up next to my person. I’m tired of not being reassured when I need reassurance. I’m tired of doing this life shit alone. As humans, I don’t believe we are meant to, and I think it’s becoming too easy to be solo and/or isolate. I don’t believe we are meant to lean on friends all the time. Personally, I’m very cognizant of the fact that everyone is dealing with something, and I learned that lesson the hard way a few years back when I was confiding in a friend at the time, and they immediately asked “When’s your next therapy session?”

It was then that I learned to ask people if they have the capacity for me, and since I’m usually in my head about that sort of thing…never wanting to feel like a burden with my thoughts and feelings. Because I was asked that question, I'm anxious when wanting to share and be vulnerable.

I hate that my mind is like a never ending rabbit hole.

Let me out, my nigga.

So many feelings about so much these days:

1. I’m no longer sure what my purpose is. I thought it was my work, the work I’ve been doing for years…storytelling. I don’t know if I’m losing faith in my dreams, if my dreams were just astronomical, if I’m just truly exhausted, or whether I just can’t see it anymore. Either way, I’m just not sure anymore.

2. I’ve been thinking about not being here. Not in a way that I want to harm myself, but just no longer wanting to be a part of this life that I’m living. I’m ready to check out. I’m finding that the happiness I’m seeking within, seems impossible to find. I’ve been crying myself to sleep most nights because I can’t seem to get around the sadness that I try so hard to escape.

3. I’m caring less and less about everything. There’s not much that I’m super interested in other than books, art, and figuring out when I will be freed of the couch that has destroyed my back and in turn, has fucked with my mental.

Mood.

Prospect - Danielle Mckinney 2022

km.

Another way to support this publication would be to check out my wish list: plot twist - it’s all books =)

Newly added:

Pieces of Me Seasonal Boxes are now available for Founding Members! These boxes are thoughtfully curated boxes that include some of my favorite “pieces of me” for self-care, wellness & inspiration - an offering of gratitude and thanks. Each box will be one of a kind, specifically for you. The Spring Equinox boxes will be going out in March, just in time for the Spring Equinox.

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98% of the things that belong to me have been in a storage unit that has increased in price three times in the last 441 days. I used to go sit in the unit to just be around my things. Things that I’ve accumulated and curated over the years that are an extension of me. I’d just sit there and cry because I’d never thought I’d be in the position that I’m in, and have been in. I miss my stuff, being around my stuff…being around what grounded me for a long time…what feels familiar. Now I just go and get or drop things off as needed and don’t spend more time than I need to there. I just can’t deal.

I don’t have any kids, pets, property, a husband or life partner, or any assets. I don’t have anything outside of that 10’ x 10’ space that I can say is mine. Aside from those things…I don’t have anything…substantial, and that shit eats away at my spirit. I don’t have a person that I can consider my home, someone that provides calm in the middle of the storm. I’ve simply been fighting for my life and I’ve come to a point where I am wondering…what exactly am I fighting for? Why the fuck am I here? What is this?

I’m taking care of a parent who’s toxic and takes me for granted and I don’t have a community that could help me bear the weight of it all. My sanity - or what was left of it has since been compromised and I feel like I can snap at any minute.

I don’t want to just survive anymore.

God, you tell me you’re about to do a new thing, but when?

I’ve been working on rewiring my brain, taking the steps to be a different person…doing what I can to keep my eyes and my spirit forward-moving, away from everything that I’m not entirely healed from. Trying to decipher what people have put on me due to them not dealing with their own shit, and what I actually need to be accountable for. I’ve been trying to fine tune my discernment but I’ve fallen short a few times in the last year. That’s the thing about the Enemy, that motherfucker will step in any time he sees you moving away from his fuck shit and into the light.

I don’t do resolutions, never have. I’ll set an intention for myself or choose words to meditate on daily. This year I’ve chosen ease, and grounded.

I’d like to get to a place where I’ve mastered myself so much so that nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing or no one, can move me outside of myself. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, but I have to do that another way because it hasn’t served me well - so I’m just going to switch out the sleeve for the page. The pages have always felt safer to me versus me saying the words to actual humans.

I’ve given so much of myself away in this last year. I’ve compromised my happiness for the sake of others, went against my gut in instances where that should’ve been the last thing I did, and I was open in instances where my ass should’ve stayed closed off. I’m no longer doing any of that. Any, and everything I do moving forward, will be for me. I don’t like the idea that I have to be my everything, meaning EYE have to be the soft place to land, EYE have to be the ear when I need it, EYE have to hug and soothe myself in those moments when I’m fighting back tears, EYE have to talk myself out of wylin’ the fuck out when someone tries me, EYE have to be the bigger person (though, this one is out the fucking window moving forward because there’s no prize for being the bigger person and sometimes chaos and/or violence could be the true answer.)

The last time I felt truly connected with God was in 2020. I’d been working at a company for two years as a contractor and wanted to transition to full time. They’d been giving me the fucking runaround. I ended up leaving the company at the start of Covid and was out of work for 9 months. It was during those 9 months that I felt like I was truly in sync with God. I was doing Bible Study every week, meditating on the Word, talking to God all the time, and was truly feeling the peace and the love that comes with that. It was during that time that God spoke to me. Very clearly. So much so that it scared the shit out of me.

I was in my apartment making notes in the book I use for my studies, and just talking to God. When he responded, his voice was so clear. It was as if all the outside noise had went silent, and it was just us in my bedroom. I’d been standing when I heard him speak, and I’d sat down on my bed in response. I’d felt so many things in that moment: Oh my god, you do hear me! You do listen to me! You haven’t forgotten about me!

I’d felt a sense of calm that I hadn’t felt before.

Tears are burning my eyes as I recollect this.

I remember all the noise outside and inside my head had subsided. I truly understood - or was able to feel like: everything was going to be ok. I’d felt covered, understood, and most of all…listened to.

I struggle really badly with feelings of not being listened to, or heard. I used to talk really fast to get the words out because I felt like I wasn’t ever truly being listened to, and now, I’m more silent (and observant) than I actually speak.

“Be patient,” He’d said.

He’d delivered what I’d been praying for and about at that time, but in retrospect, it wasn’t because I really needed it, it was because it was something I had to learn a lesson from. Trust and believe, the lesson didn’t feel good in any way, shape, or form, and was an experience that changed me in a not so good way, but I’m still trying to find the silver lining in it all.

I digress.

I’m feeling pretty disconnected from life as it currently is, more specifically, in my world…and how I move through the world. I’ve been wondering if what I’ve always imagined how relationships would be (for me), and what and how love would show up for me…is all unrealistic and fantastical. Maybe I just romanticize things that have no business being romanticized. Maybe I watch too many movies. Maybe I read too many 1books.

I say all this to say…I’m just really having a hard time. It seems the older I get, the more trivial everything seems, but fuck that. My re-wiring will include:

• Ease: If it causes me discomfort, it’s getting the fuck up outta here. People, experiences, places…whatever.

• Peace: If it isn’t adding to the peace I’m creating for myself, it’s TF up outta here.

• Add → Subtract: If it isn’t adding to my life in a meaningful way…guess what? It’s TF up outta here.

I want some thing(s) that I can call mine and I feel like I’m desperately running out of time. The constant feeling of time running out kills my spirit. I’d really love to believe that I am ‘exactly where I need to be’ but this place doesn’t feel good, and I’ve been here too long.

tHe SuNkEn PLaCe.

God, can you tell me what it’s all for?

*me entering this year hoping I can heal from having my ass handed to me all 2024*

If you had to pick a word that you’d like to keep with you as you take on 2025, what would it be?

km.

Notes:

• I’ve been MIA for a while, and though I know it’s gonna take me some time, I’m looking forward to catching up here on these Substack Streets.

• Just a heads up that paid subs will resume as of Friday, January 10th, 2025. I’m back, and it feels good to be back. You’ll see a lot more of me.

• Hi and hellos to all my new subscribers and followers - WELCOME!

• The cover artwork is a piece by Nava Lundy called Watch Over Me.

About everything.

This has been causing levels of anxiety that I feel like I’m only able to get through by the skin of my teeth. Is this just a me thing? Does anyone else go through this? Am I losing my mind? Is this a mid-life crisis?

Stay the course they say.

Always be true to yourself they say.

I have no problems doing either, especially at this point in my life. But I’ve been thinking about all the times that I’d altered myself in the past, whether tiny, or, not so tiny, to make myself more palatable for people. Removing the edge I know I possess. Adjusting my voice to be lighter-bodied so people wouldn’t be taken aback by how deep and grounded my voice actually is. Feeling like I had to use certain words to soften points I needed to make to save someone from being offended by my bluntness. Wearing my hair a certain way that would be more acceptable in the workplace, and oh boy, of course making sure my tattoos were covered because you know…God forbid anyone in the office see a black woman with a full sleeve of ink.

Really liking a guy, and then acting like it was nothing because said guy would always voice his interest in my best friend. Agreeing to do shit that I really didn’t want to do for the sake of wanting to be down. Taking on and implementing criticism that would change the vision I originally had, thinking ‘oh they’re probably right because they’ve been doing this longer than me.’ Stifling my light to soothe the insecurities in others. Coming up with excuses to rationalize the insecurities in others.

I can keep going.

But I digress.

Who would I be now, had I not altered a damned thing about who and how I am to make others feel better about themselves?

I think I’d be more powerful…more confident, even.

I currently consider myself to be extremely grounded…except when I’m reflecting…but I’m seeing how my current self is the result of lessons having been learned from some of those ass backwards choices I’d made.

Maybe I made those choices because I was meant to?

I don’t take shit from anyone now. My discernment level is upwards of a million. I can read energy in a fraction of a second. If I don’t want to do something, I’ll tell you no and not think twice about it. I leave insecure people right TF where they’re at. I rebuke them, it, and anything having to do with it. It’s not my job to make anyone feel better about themselves.

I no longer shrink myself, or dim my light.

I’m finding that doing the work is scary for a lot of people. Whether the work on themselves, and learning how to accept and navigate their shadows, putting the work in to make relationships work - whether platonic, romantic, marriages…people are fucking lazy.

Listen I get it.

The work requires an investment of time. Time that we typically feel we don’t have. We are already doing so much in the 24 that we have.

“You have the same 24 hours that Beyonce does.”

I’ve wanted many things in this life, but what I’m finding through my reflection and the chaos that it causes…is that nothing beats seeing your own evolution. Having a better understanding of who I am, and why I operate the way I do is so much more valuable than all the things I’ve ever wanted. No one can take that from me.

Now don’t get it twisted, I still want the things.

And will have them.

km.

Author’s Note: To new and not so new subscribers - THANK YOU for being here. I will never get to a point where I won’t thank you because that’s what we do ‘round these parts. I appreciate your support more than you know. I’m going to try out scheduling posts, at least through the end of the year due to being in pre-production on my latest film. Your girl is working two jobs to make it happen and I can’t wait to be able to share about it!

In the meantime if you’re passing through, there are other ways to support this pub: I love books so if you’d like to add to my collection, you can do that here. I also love coffee & croissants, so if you want to slide me some of those, you can do that here. Also, don’t be afraid to say hi!

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My time with God has waned over the last few months and sometimes it takes me a minute to realize that that’s the reason why I don’t be feeling right in my mind and spirit. The peace is what starts to disappear.

I struggle with being selfish as fuck, and I struggle with the idea of me being selfish as fuck…with my Mom. I think about how our parents raise us, and how the tables turn. I’m at the chapter in my life where I am ready to explore…the world, passions that I’ve put on the back burner for far too long, myself - just being able to sit with…analyze…and continue to learn about myself…with no distractions. I want to explore love…what I used to think it was, what it actually is, what it could be…and what it looks like for me.

But when you have to care for a parent…shit is just different. I’ve somehow managed to continually push through my anger and rage. I’m angry about so much. Sure, I can go to therapy…again. But I’m tired. I’m tired of seeking answers outside of myself. Can you tell I’m angry, probably not. Do I mask it well? Depends on the fucking day. I’m losing patience for myself. And what I mean is, I’m tired of giving grace. I’m tired of giving grace to a woman who doesn’t know how to communicate properly and shuts down when someone brings the shit to her door. Someone being me. Shit being her shit.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of the fighting in my mind. I’m tired of placating myself…trying to convince myself that what I feel isn’t valid.

But it is though.

In my mind, I go over and over about how my parents took care of me, how they raised me…I turned out alright. First generation to go to college, get a degree…chase their dreams. I’m different from my family though.

I feel more deeply.

I’m the creative. The one who has the guts, or even the thought to go after her dreams. To follow through with my passions.

But I feel guilty.

Guilty that I’m so selfish. I didn’t ask to be here. I shouldn’t have to keep sacrificing because I’m a caretaker. Because to be quite honest…what the fuck.

What is life if we aren’t meant to truly live?

The horrors of the world are enough to make the sane insane. Reality is such a tangible thing that I often wonder if I’m fucking fooling myself by being an artist. If I’m fooling myself for thinking there’s more to this shit. There’s a whole world to be explored…people to meet…passions to be discovered…love to make sense of. I’ve always been a dreamer. I’ve always told stories. I’ve always inserted myself into worlds of magic that felt very real to me. But lately, the magic has been fading because my reality is the very opposite of that. It is not my job to be everything to my Mom, and whether she knows it, or thinks it or not, she shouldn’t want me to. I shouldn’t have to take the brunt of her misery, her attitudes, her unhappiness. It’s not my job to make her happy, it’s just not. It’s not my job to force her to go outside and be in the sun…to find her community…to live.

All of these feelings live in my spirit and it’s a constant fight to stay sane grounded. It’s causing me to fight in other ways because I’m used to surviving…not living. I’m used to operating in fight or flight mode. I’ve been fighting the depths of feelings I have…the levels of love I have for (what God is continuing to show me what is seemingly turning out to be) my person. Because I haven’t been here before, it takes great concentration to not ‘flight.’ It takes great intention to communicate through the moments where former versions of myself would just run, block, & delete…the person, my feelings, and any remnants of what made me uncomfortable.

I’m truly being seen for what feels like the first time in my life…and I’m scared because of what he might find. I’m scared that my shadows will start to reveal themselves without me carefully mapping out how or when EYE will share them.

I am scared of this love.

Part of me wants to not do it anymore, even though this is only the beginning. But the bigger part of me wants to show myself that not everyone is bad for my heart. He’s quite the opposite, though. He brings out sides of my femininity that I have never shared with anyone because I didn’t trust them enough. My masculine energy has always been prevalent, as a sort of protection…my armor.

Who am I protecting myself from?

Likely myself.

I know for a fact that I get in my own way, but sometimes that, mixed with trauma, fear, and doubt paralyze me to the point where I’m just…a constant state of confusion. Half the time I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, my mind runs 100mph - and yet I still find a way to take a moment to think before I speak, because I understand the power of words.

I wish I wasn’t so empathetic. I wish I could be colder…and operate in that on a daily, but that’s not me - unless I’m forced to. But…it’s getting kinda chilly in here.

km.