Have you ever noticed how intimate sitcoms are?
I’m writing about the extraordinary.
How many other transitions in life are like this: inevitable, beautiful, a blessing, and a pain so deep its aches reverberate through generations.
Between the Jes I think I know and that other Jes, the inexhaustible Jes, the one who slips briefly into view whenever she offers an unexpected comment, a laugh out of place, a sideways glance.
You wait to feel something, see a vision, hear a heavenly voice. But it’s quiet. The tomb is empty.
Light, after all, functions as both a particle and a wave.
what if status updates become souls.
Oh forget it, I’ll just buy everything online.
It’s a little weird that I, of all people, feel nervous being watched. Being watched is literally my job.
Alas, I know my life is difficult, even torturous.