My stomach feels somewhat unsettled. Similarly to the feeling on gets from seeing grey rain clouds from afar as you drive through the sun. You aren’t to the cold, dark place you are headed yet- but you know it’s there and you know it’s coming.

This is what anxiety feels like.

It feels like beads of sweat that sting your skin because every part of your being hurts. It hurts to breathe, hurts to move, hurts to think. And how can you begin to plan where to make the next move, or how to plan your safe route, if you can’t even untangle the map provided. Pages stick together, roads and rivers are smudged, and there are tears in the corner.

So you channel your inner “carpe diem” and use shortcuts the passenger is yelling over the ear-straining music. Life is really just a crazy road trip, with no sense of direction.

Being that way, I’m left at the infamous crossroads of life- enjoy the ride or stall the trip. I still don’t exactly know how to get past this stubborn fork in my path.

For some of us,
a rabbit hole is the only exit
It’s not a wonderland for us,
because it’s been our home all along
And the bottles need no “drink me, eat me” label
because we’d swallow what we need with no question
When we find ourselves at a crossroad,
we will turn to a Cheshire grin to lead us astray
The Queen of hearts never paid mind to us,
knowing that we’d gladly take our own heads
I personally am infamous for painting all my roses red,
white flowers never quite suited me anyhow

Red Thread Heart

I wonder about you sometimes. I worry even more. I hope you are drinking water and eating and sleeping okay. I hope you still enjoy walks outside and carry a compassion for small animals. I wish you the best while you carry on in this world without my hand in yours.

I don’t know why we were so drawn together, like two broken magnets that were so strong in their connection but so weak in the execution. I know each fortune told in both of your palms though I have never ran my hands over them.

But we still stare at the same moon and breathe the same air. Sometimes that has to be just…enough.

We have these red strings that are like crumb trails to those that matter most in our life. But I don’t imagine there to be only one. Like veins in our body, they reach far and many to our vital organs. Our vital players on this chessboard of life.

I am grateful for you, but I am grateful from this distance. I will tie a balloon to the end of your red thread, and set you free among the stars. You can choose to guide me when I’m lost, but never lose track of your own constellation that holds you close to the moon.


“What is it like to do heroin?”
Asks my ten year old self in drug prevention
There are certain moments that are like the movies-
foreshadowing the future for the featured main character
And we all believe we are the stars in our own show

I wonder if when my ten-year-old self questioned that,
I could ever even fathom the fact that I know the answer now