That’s The Nice Thing About

I Know How This Feels: The Tightening Of The Chest, The Panic, The What-have-i-done-wait-i-was-kidding. Eating Disorders Linger So Long Undetected, Eroding The Body In Silence, And Then They Strike. The Secret Is Out. You're Dying.

When I Was Growing Up, I Always Felt There Was An Expectation That I Would Do One Of Two Things: Be Great At Something, Or Go Crazy And Become A Total Failure. There Is No Middle Ground Where I Come From, And I Am Only Now Beginning To Get A Sense That There Is A Middle Ground At All.

We Turn Skeletons Into Goddesses And Look To Them As If They Might Teach Us How Not To Need.

I'm A Driven Perfectionist, Very Self-critical.

In Our Absence, The Violet Early Evening Light Pours In The Bay Window, Filling The Still Room Like Water Poured Into A Glass. The Glass Is Delicate. The Thin, Tight Surface Of The Liquid Light Trembles. But It Does Not Break. Time Does Not Pass. Not Yet.