Emotions suck and, generally speaking, I’m not a huge fan. I’ve never handled or communicated them well. In all sincerity, it’s much easier for me to be fluidly communicative about how and why I feel when something is in my system – like alcohol or weed.

And, because we are what we consume, those vices have been confused with musing in the last eight years of my life: from college and an intense issue with bulimia nervosa, to heavy consumption while on medications like ambien and prozac, to covering issues by working in the alcohol industry, and losing myself in a search of a ‘career’ to cover my deep feeling of isolation.

Let’s just say my diet wasn’t great.

But, as writing has become something I’ve re-dedicated myself to, I’ve found that understanding the difference between finding a muse and self abuse can be a thin line. You’d think I’d be more wary of this ledge – especially after studying Ernest Hemingway for a few years in college. But clearly, I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Or, rather, I wasn’t able to apply the same critical reflections on myself.

That’s being in your twenties, right?

This section is dedicated to continually re-evaluating my personal creative health, emotional stability, mental fortitude, and why it’s important to work through it all to find purpose, value, and worth.

As shitty as I am with emotions, I tend to be worse with self-confidence.

So, these pieces are me at my most vulnerable – and a reminder to everyone who feels deeply they’re not “enough”, that you, yourself, are the only one who can decide what “enough” really means.

You are valid. Your emotions are real. You are worth it.

“All good books have one thing in common – they are truer than if they had really happened.”  – Ernest Hemingway