Grandmas and grandpas are
journal, age thirteen
Grandmas and grandpas are
journal, age thirteen
Can plants be happy? If they get what they need, they thrive —
good luck to you, leo grande
emma thompson — you
are my new hero
The sun is nature’s antidepressant.
Life is so much clearer under the stars than under a roof.
…and torture myself with happy thoughts…
Sometimes I feel like life misprinted me.
Grief is all emotions wrapped into one.
I read an article stating that cats don’t understand death the way humans do, so they don’t fear it like we do — I think they understand better than
I know a guy.
Angry. Festering
in disappointment
of the world
and of himself.
A little depressed.
Sick of doing
the same. freaking.
thing. every day.
Wondering where
his lost youth went.
Hungering to replace
the comfort and
all the good things
in his life that
have gone away.
But resolutely
continuing on
doing his duty.
Living with the pain.
Loving while he can.
Taking any little
laugh he can find.
Then doing it all
over again. Perhaps
you know him too.
Perhaps we all do
— inside.
Hail is angry rain.
I beat myself up every day without so much as a scratch.
days in winter
fall so short —
as the sun sets
loneliness rises