Survive, Report, Repeat. Survive, Report,Repeat.

I am not a fan of the word “inspiring”

There have not been as many subscribers in the last couple of weeks, but I’m trying to not worry about how many care about writing and reading and independent authors… but how many of you I’m honored to be sending this to now, who’ve already cared enough to click or share.

THANK YOU to those helping this independent memoirist continue to work by upgrading to paid (which also helps my goal of gifting this every-weekday-writing-world to anyone who asks for a reading scholarship, no questions asked….

Please share if you enjoy!

I don’t think I’m that interesting.

I am not a fan of the word “inspiring”, even if I obsessively seek out other role models for myself and then watch documentaries about them at 3 AM when I’m in pain.

I spend more time architected bridges of guilt and shame about who I am to myself or might be to other people…

But I do know that anyone who cares enough to stop the rampant rapids of information on the internet and ask who you are or what your story is or why you’re covered in scars and sh*t:

That is a privilege.

I loved the best (almost)-16-year-old there was before she died and she used to talk about not leaving enough ripples when she leaves. Will anyone remember her?

I’ve made it sort of a mission of sorts to say her name everyday just for myself (though also a lot “here”, as well) and to keep that name alive in the only way that’s in my power… even if it makes people uncomfortable. It does.

Grief does.

We want it to be like death: swift and quiet… But I now know neither of those things are true).