Explore the complexities of love and choices in my short story, "The Evening Cup of Hot Chocolate" Join the journey of Freddie as he navigates the intersection of past and present emotions. Available on Reedsy! #shortstory #readingcommunity #readnow

Read: t.co/Jh290boIwf

Post your favorite #doctorwho wrong answers only

I want to share cool things but there is a heavy incentive to share pictures of my dog on this platform, so here is banjo being cool #dogs

Does this idolization contribute to the problem? Does it place these figures on a pedestal, contribute to an imbalance of power? I mean ultimately people who abuse power to abuse people are responsible, but I wonder if this provides kindling for the fire

“New content moderation rules” that’s rich, I guess you could say the rule is, there are no rules!

Can you guess which state I live in? No cheating! #thisisok

My phone background rn #anxiety

Edith Thompson woke up next to her dead husband, something she had done 3 times before, but this time she didn’t do it. #veryshortstory

I’m just trying to do whatever I can to feel good about living #dogood

I give you my best friend, Banjo and his best friend daisy #dogs

Love this

Today vacuumed any illusion of youth from me.

Emotionally, I'm worn bone deep, and feeling ancient.

My instinct is to be angry with you.
But It’s easy to pretend I’m perfect
And you are not, but that’s not true.
Or it is something in between.
So as I pass by piles of trash and mangled steel, I remind myself that the world is our trashcan, and the world is our home.
Some of the refuse is mine.

Hometown love final part

Each year I spend away from home is a year of watching from afar and fearing that my hometown has forgotten its “love of the human.” But each time I return my faith is rewarded, each time I walk its streets I am met with death and life, imperfections and love.

Hometown love pt3

The shadow of the neglected mountain subdues my hometown each morning, while potential consumer experiences and investment opportunities race west towards the setting sun.

Hometown love pt2

The poetry of my hometown is in the tall and ancient sycamore trees that guard decaying houses. While blocks away carefully manicured landscapes adorne formulaic “planned”communities.

Hometown love pt1

“if anything is capable of making a poet of a literary man, it is my hometown love of the human,”
To be human is to be imperfect,
To be perfect is to be unlovable.

I understand how philosophy makes people think “why does this even matter?” Maybe it can’t give you answers that are definitive, but what it does is that it gives a willing soul a chance to decide what you think the truth is, because without deciding what reality is to you, you can’t really live.

There is no lesson to learn from your pain,
No purpose to the heartache,
Such sad words may feel so profane
Exceedingly so to those hearts that break.