The thing I didn't mention about my birthday is my toes. Okay, I did mention my toes. My shoes. What I didn't mention is that since I've lost the heels people would compliment with envy; the beauty, the stride, and the height... if I'm wearing a pretty dress I don't know what to do with... Continue Reading →
A little over two years ago, I started taking photographs. I started taking photographs of the gowns I wore - the pills I took. I started taking photographs of pain. At first, I thought it was a weird, pop culture, selfie compulsion... but I wasn't sharing these photos. They never touched a twitter or a... Continue Reading →
It isn't until the morning after - the sunlight streaming through the half ripped out vertical blinds - that I really feel like shit. I only had one drink last night, followed by plastic cup after plastic cup of water, and a cold walk in the dark from downtown. I had spent two hours crying... Continue Reading →
There's battle scars on all my guitars but I still come out here and play - Ozma At this point, I've given up on the idea that any one of these surgeries will cure me. When people smile and say lovely things like, "It's so great, after this surgery you'll be better!" I smile and... Continue Reading →
ifoundyouinthedark 