Just Write

  • The Man and the Rabbit.

    “Regular, or decaf?” An important question almost every person faces daily. Do they try to break the caffeine addiction while they’re ahead, or do they resort themselves to the only thing they know can give them energy when they’re burned out? Sometimes regular was the correct choice. On a day when one might need to…

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  • Easy.

    Easy. Easy for them to say, I say. Easy for them to say the words that make the sense, but hard for us to do the actions that make the heart grow wider. Easy to die, hard to live. Easy to forget the pain, they say. Easy to grow resentful, hard to grow strong, weary…

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  • Even so.

    Even as we sit solemn amongst the friends and foes. Even as we complain tirelessly of the demands of the world. Even as we pretend not to care about the birds singing outside our windows, even as we quickly scrape away the freshly fallen snow. Even as we disregard the smile of a stranger, even…

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  • there.

    I wish I was in London. Or Paris, perhaps. In a town with cobbled walkways, colorful houses, petite coffeeshops that serve cinnamon buns hot and melting, with a coffee cup warming my hands. Perhaps a little fog, a little rain, people open their umbrellas, walking a little more quickly down the quiet streets, their black and…

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  • I’d Imagine.

    It was, quite honestly, a very unmemorable day. In fact, I don’t even recall what day of the week it was, or what time, besides that it must not have been too late because the sun had not yet set. I was driving through town, because I despised the tiny merge lane onto the highway,…

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  • Forever

    Forever is an elusive idea, a hummingbird darting about a window, a stray piece of hair from underneath the hat, caught in the wind. Just out of our reach, toying us to come farther to catch it, to understand fully, to lock it away in our stores of knowledge that we call memory. I’ll love…

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  • Hollow, perhaps.

    The wind, swirling the pouring rain into falling even harder, pounding against the arched window, creating a peaceful ambiance of the background of reading with a cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other, a cat on the cushions, a warm blanket. Compilations of notes, meticulously studied, carefully constructed, color coded, and…

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  • We are Writers.

    We are writers. We do not muffle our thoughts. We make them louder, tempting them to overtake our minds. And when our minds and hearts grow weary from the weight of the poetry, we take out a piece of paper. We learn to embrace the feeling of a cramped hand. We learn to follow the…

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  • My Good Friend the Sun.

    I do not wish to feel sad at the sun setting in the sky, descending in crimson waves of beauty that wash over the world. I do not want to miss its ever shining presence, its welcome peace, its dependable way of standing solemn amongst the clouds. Rather, I wish to take joy. For I…

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  • A Forgotten Comfort.

    There is something comforting in the uncomfortable. The lesser known happinesses, the hidden joy masked in a charade of anxiety. For what I wouldn’t give to experience the genuine simplicity once again of sitting alone on a park bench. The wind is howling, it’s cold, so the park population is sparse this time of year.…

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