The Magazine

He runs back and forth along the fence, barking at people of whom he’s unsure.

Since the April you left us, you took the spring blooms with you.

no one tells you that your first (hypo)manic episode reaches its peak in a middle school / first year teaching / fresh off a “medical leave”

When you feel the impossible breathing down your neck you’re on the right track.

there is sometimes nothing more than enduring.

when your todo list starts with “enter a synaesthetic flow state” and ends with “send that email you’ve been putting off” you start to wonder

still here, unexpectedly i refuse to do the deed for them

I feel I’m free falling into depths of distress

i don’t know what it looks like from an outsider’s perspective when i sit for twenty minutes staring at a glass of soy milk unable to make myself take a sip.  

Like starlight in a Dark Sky city so many twinkling fingertips