I Was Wrong About My Mom
My heart still yearns for Caribou runs and dressing room dates.
My heart still yearns for Caribou runs and dressing room dates.
I missed sharing a gallon of oat milk—because who really goes through a whole gallon of alternative milk alone?
I always joke with people that I was never really plugged in enough to find myself in the firing line of all the classic Christian dogma taught to children.
How can we be expected to take a topic seriously when it is being referred to in the internet’s version of rhyming slang?
I cannot shame myself into being better.
And I think I blacked out.
How dare she strawman my faith?
Art, I found, could be revolutionary.
a consistent thread runs through the messy tapestry of my insecure wonderings.
Baseball revolves around the idea of failure. Batters are struck out left and right.