Silhouette of a woman against a blue skin with clouds and pink-gold sunset, holding a scarf above her head that's blowing backwards in the wind.

This isn’t a cry for help, though it is writing-as-therapy. I’d like to be clear that I’m safe: I am coping even though I am struggling. Right now, my depression feels like I’m outside in a thunderstorm and while every rational part of me knows eventually the torrential rain will stop, I’m struggling to believe that the downpour will end. This post talks about suicidal ideation, depression and the darker parts of my mental illness, so please consider this your content warning.Read More →

This was written for World Poetry Day. Until recently, I’d forgotten how much I simultaneously¬†love writing poetry and firmly believe that I have absolutely zero skill when it comes to doing so. I’ve tried to capture another part of amazing happiness of my weekend at¬†Eroticon, specifically feeling alive and free when dancing on the Saturday night.Read More →