"I could navigate the constellations of freckles across her back like Magellan for as often as she turned away from me."

"I often ponder on whether or not I would notice if I had died in my sleep. Would I be able to tell that dreams had stopped? Would I hear my wife screaming for me to wake?"

I'm spending today adding more short stories into my book, "The Most ~Un~Reliable Narrator."

What does your afternoon look like?

Write something every day, draw something every day.

Look, sometimes I'd rather just sit with some fruit snacks and stare at a tree.

The germination time for every seed varies; so don't worry if you're not at the same level as those around you. Grow slowly and towards the sun, and you will be brilliant.

Aiden is an insignificant man in reality -- but reality can be transcended.

Laying out pages that work together with your illustrations is *chefs kiss*.

The stars have always been in love. They would reach across the expanse of nothingness to reach each other. Distance, to a star, meant nothing.