It’s that time of year. The giddy excitement of holidays and fresh snow is gradually replaced by the dread of scraping frosted windshields (again) and the monotony of wiping up wet, brown footprints. We grow bored with our cute sweaters, and our fur-lined boots are scuffed and crusted with salt. Continue reading Feeling S.A.D.? Me too.
A poem of struggle and excuses. (It’s never too late for a new beginning.) Continue reading What I Found at the Bottom of Every Bottle I Ever Drank
Thought you’d skipped town for good. Yet I keep catching glimpses of you creeping around again, under the clutter in my messy house and behind the quinoa in my secret stash of Oreos. Continue reading Hey Depression, old pal