This is not a poem;;

Before you read this, just know that you’re probably going to leave angry. You’re probably going to feel your face flush and rage shoot through your brain. You’re probably going to go “who the fuck are you?” and “what kind of bullshit is this?” and that’s okay. I can live with that. So if you can read this open minded, that’d be great. If not, that’s okay. I get it. Some things are just too heavy and too raw for people to lift up and look inside.

To the parent who forgot their kid in the car today, or maybe it was last week, or maybe it was that time you’ve never told anyone about…I am so sorry that happened to you. I imagine you wild-eyed with panic. Maybe you dropped the groceries. Maybe you got back in your car and your heart dropped to the floor when you realized what you’d done. I hope your kid was okay and just know that someone knows that you love that kid so. damn. much. The thing about forgetting is that we never intend to forget and that’s the thing about forgetting. We can’t control what we forget. If you could, we wouldn’t forget the important things.



there are people who say that
you will forget words and actions,
but never the feelings.
those people are right.
i can barely remember your face,
or your touch or your laugh.
i can’t remember the depths of your eyes,
or the way you smiled.
i can’t remember the shape of you,
or the feel of you against me.
i can’t recall the moment that i decided
that i. wanted. you.
the first time i saw you?
the first time i kissed you?
the first time you touched me?
no, i can’t remember much about you at all,
except that for a moment in time,
i was alive.
i was trapped in your fire,
burning and smoldering,
and yet,
i was more alive than i had ever been.



I asked you to kiss me.
But you got in your car,
while I stood there, ridiculously.
I made myself vulnerable.
I put myself out there.
I asked for what I wanted.
I just did, you said.
That was the moment.
I made the decision,
to never let you hurt me again.
I will not ache for your touch.
I will never stand there,
with hopeful eyes,
asking you to love me
with more than words.
So, when you wonder,
why I gave up, quit –
that was the moment.
I opened myself to you,
and you sewed me shut
with a needlepoint –
neatly stitched with
“not interested.”



Be. You.


Life is about seeing yourself, being yourself, loving yourself. I’d like to say that I have this whole loving yourself thing down to a science, but the truth is…I don’t. Sometimes, I have this vivid image of who I am and where I’m going and all the wonderful things I’m going to do someday. And…then there are the days where I feel fat so I eat an entire bag of potato chips and tell myself I’ll go run tomorrow. Well, tomorrow comes and I never go run and so I wear the potato chips on my hips until I feel better about myself and maybe I’ll eat some salad with my dressing next time. That’s healthy, right? Somedays, I like to pretend I’m Katherine Heigl – she’s gorgeous (like you!) and then all of a sudden I’m asking myself who I am and what I want to be when I grow up.

So while I’m sitting here writing and telling you to be beautiful and brave, the truth is that I don’t always feel beautiful and brave. And that’s the thing. You can be scared and that’s okay. But loving yourself and staying true to yourself means being brave. It is telling all those people – the magazines, the celebrities, your mother-in-law, the bridal shop lady to shove it (nicely) while you eat your peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and watch Grey’s Anatomy until you turn blue and faint. Whatever makes you, you – just do it. The world is better with the REAL you in it.