Left my heart on La Huerta

i am sitting on a hill overlooking the river and sketching the scenery with my hair fluttering in the wind. you look over my shoulder and it’s the most dogshit drawing you’ve ever seen.

man sometimes friendship really is just "I saw this and knew it would give you psychic damage. please respond with agony" and then they do. and it's great

A non-writer asked me "but where do you get your ideas" and i genuinely did not know how to explain that it's not a place. it's not a website. it's not a folder. it's that i was on the bus and a woman was holding a paper bag very carefully and something about the way she held it made me need to know what was inside and then i needed to know why she was sad about it and then there was a whole person and then there was a whole story and the bus had already stopped and i missed my stop. that's where.

I…need to remember this. Thank you.

If it’s worth doing it’s worth half-assing

What helped me write trauma better is remembering that the nervous system learns predictions. If danger used to come after quiet, calm can feel threatening. If kindness used to come with a price, kindness can feel suspicious. So healing is not just “they know they’re safe now.” Healing is the slow, annoying, deeply unfair process of teaching the body that the old prediction is not always the present truth.

logging onto tumblr like heyyy i'm thinking about the same character i've spent the past few weeks thinking about. no change here. just wanted to let yall know

what they don’t tell you is that the urge to just leave and start over somewhere far away only gets stronger the older you get

opened my wip and didnt immediately write a thousand new beautiful and perfect words so i'm going to smash my laptop with a hammer