m e s s

English 202 // 06

I’m such a mess.
Life is such a mess.
Everything is such a mess.

You’d think I’d be used to this by now…
but I’m not.
I mean, after all,
it’s my name.
I can’t get away from it.

I’m just learning to live it,
with grace,
and love.
With a fullness beyond anything
I can think of.

Everything will be ok,
with time.
If thousands have made it before me.
I can make it,

Even when everything seems
to be uncertain.

– Mess – 

Fragments, again…

English 202 // 05

Rainy skies.

Autumn leaves. 
Open books.
Cups of pumpkin tea.

It’s definitely October. The floors are cold when I wake up in the morning and the sky is it’s autumnal gray, the blue sky hiding away so the golden trees can have their moment, their beautiful death.


Sometimes I struggle to rest. My mind is a body of its own, always on the go, “Do this, do that, don’t have time to sit. Keep going”. A never ending cycle of getting one thing done and then tacking on another.
I don’t have time to slow, I must keep going. 
But I know, even though my to-do list is full, and I have hardly any time. There are just someday I need to take a step back and sit inside while it’s raining and enjoy the hues of the leaves that are changing. Everything is changing, so quickly and swift. Thursday is here one moment and gone the next. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself to this process.


I’m turning twenty this weekend, which is kind of crazy for me to think about. There is so much I want to say but I don’t quite have the words for it yet. A lot to process. A lot to think about. A lot to sift through. I’m such an overthinker…
Part of me is reminiscing over the past ten years. The teenage years are the crazy ones, wild and free. I won’t forget them. The other part of me is wondering what these next ten years will bring, what do I want to do before I’m thirty? 

Here’s a small, unkept list. I’ll be adding to it more down the road:
graduate. get my own apartment. Find a job that will support me, but I also love. break down these walls I’ve built. drink more tea. be honest with myself. find a best friend, a good friend, a loyal friend. Move to a different city for awhile. Get my passport. Visit Paris. Get half way decent at french. Go on a road trip, visiting places I’ve always wanted to see. Write, write lots. Find someone to love. 


As I was driving home this evening, it was wet and drizzly. Old Maroon 5 playing through my radio. Rain covered my windshield. Headlights and stop signs were blurry and bloked. They kind of had their own bit of shine as they hit my eyes, glazed and cold. It’s fall but the start of winter is going to unfold, soon. 

Week in the Life | Three

English 202 // 04


Inside Starbucks: An ever-changing community of strangers who share tabletops and wifi. 

M O N D A Y 

Mondays Consists Of:
Morning coffees. Going 70 mph in a 60 mph zone. French music. Messy hair + ball caps. 

T U E S D A Y 

I picked up the little book on the table and flipped through its pages. Soft, smooth, and glossy. All the hard work of people’s efforts paid off. Published in a bounded publication. As I flip through to one of the last pages, I recognize a small poem, one that I wrote when I was a different me. My poem got published. I got published. I’m a published poet and I didn’t know it.
I guess there is a first time for everything.

W E D N E S D A Y 

(still kind of in aftershock of yesterday)

T H U R S D A Y 

I think I’m getting sick. I can feel it. It’s making it’s way from the inside, out. Starting down in the crook of my throat and the gut of my stomach. Working it’s way to my legs, neck, shoulders, and my head — sore and fatigued. I need some rest.


Somedays I like to sit in my bed and pretend to be a literary sophisticate who lives in Paris and writes for a living. Today was that kind of day. 


You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. 

Today’s rhythm.

Week in the Life | Two

English 202 // 03

I sat, with my la Croix, on the sidewalk in the middle of a big, bustling city. The sunlight sifted its way through the tree leaves and onto the pavement. I greeted people, I said hello, and I worked until work was done.
That was my Sunday…
M O N D A Y 

I just love how the tiniest things people say can make a difference, how they can make someone smile. There were a lot of those little moments for me today. Moments where someone took the liberty to say something, and it made me smile. And just because of that, it made it a good day.
T U E S D A Y 

I woke up to the sunlight slicing through my window and on my white sheets. The light was golden, the mark of an early morning. I put my hand up in the air, filtering it through the dark, the slice of light, and then back into the dark. Light can penetrate through the darkness, but darkness can’t penetrate through the light. 
I think. I wonder. 
It’s an interesting thing…

W E D N E S D A Y 
Me and my friend.
 We were just two busy bees, 
sitting in a Starbucks 
that smelled like heavenly coffee beans.
 I think this is how 
Wednesday nights are supposed to be.

T H U R S D A Y 

Favorite Smell of the Day:
Tea Steeping and pastries baking.

Addiction of the Day:
Sleep and chocolate.

The Last Thing Googled of the Day:
Weather in Paris.

It’s the last day of September. 
I feel like playing Wake Me Up When September Ends on my drive home. 
Dring high school, my best friend used to always call me at 11:59pm on Septemeber 30th,
hoping I’d wake up, then start playing that song through the phone. He’d laugh and I’d laugh. Then we’d fall back asleep, exhausted and thankful for Green Day writing that song.
Unfortunately, I don’t have anyone to do that with me anymore.
But I have good memories.


Today was a day for:
An early morning. A venti vanilla latte. Forgetting my wallet at home and having to turn around to get it. Drives through heavy traffic. Lots of people, food, and laughs. Surprising my mom and seeing her cry (good tears). And crashing into bed at the end of the day, exhausted but slightly happy this crazy week is over.

From the Café

Just as we sat down in our seats, thunder cracked and rain started to pour from the sky. For being dinner time, it was rather quite in the café. We got there right before the rush. The clatter of plates and the hum of voices soon to come. But right then it was just us, sipping coffee and watching it storm out the raindrop clad windows. I picked up my camera and took a few shots. This is one that I love the most. 

 From the Café // 01