The breakup of a friendship for me feels something like a potato peel to the heart. You’re left astounded about how certain you were of its permanence just yesterday. But I think the unveiled truth of adulthood is that change is certain, both a comforting and completely frightening concept. 2021 forced me to once again face this idea of permanence, to be grateful for the beautiful experience that friendships are, even when they change into something else. The joy of life is our connections with others and the value those add to our short and fleeting lives. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m grateful for every encounter I’ve had with every person I’ve had the opportunity to meet, for it’s forged this version of me. The version of me that knows that change is always coming, but slowly learning not to be afraid of it, and to know that in my lows, these are not permanent, nothing is. And that’s ok.

“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are”

Rabbi Shemuel ben Nachmani


I’m… what do they call it?

Crawling up the walls?

I think I have cabin fever, for my life.

I can hardly stand the constraints of my own skin for much longer.

I want to stretch it and tear it till I’m free.

Till I can gulp down air

And I can feel the rain 

But not rain, the warm sun rays.

I ache to stretch like that irresistible urge to scratch an itch that feels inside your bone–

Entirely impossible to achieve without getting bloody.

I just listened to Prokofiev: Romeo and Juliet, Op.64 and imagined the beautiful slow motion explosion of the earth and everyone in it. 

I don’t imagine that’s normal.

Perhaps it is.