When we’re in Dublin…

That phrase has been overused both out loud and put on endless loop inside my mind for the past couple of weeks. Currently I’ve spent almost 2 months in the purgatory of life: completing one project, and waiting for the beginning of the next one. Except that lately I just feel like I’ve been in a doctor’s waiting room. Waiting. There’s not much that I can do between graduation and moving on to Dublin. I can daydream, I can plan, I can apply for jobs and go through housing websites to look for apartments. But when it’s all said and…

Screaming Into Silence

Why are you doing this? I see a fire inside of you And you keep a bottle of gasoline by your bed Why are you doing this? You see a fire inside of her And you chop wood at midnight Why are you doing this? You would rather burn before a mirror Burn before daylight dulls your brightness Burn her before everyone finds out Burn me if I get too close I ran to the silver lake alone Alone at the bottom, sobbing It doesn’t have to be like this But it is

The Salt Queen’s Labyrinth

The Salt Queen stood on the rocks, waiting. There where sea meets sky, a storm was brewing. The gray clouds were swirling and rolling closer. Her white dress blowing in the wind was reminiscent of an old sail, or a white flag. Behind her, time was frozen in the summer heat and the Aegean waves lazily lapped at the sandy beach. Off in the distance music blasted, and laughter ensued. The island knew not of the approaching storm, nor the meaning of change. It was a bubble of stagnancy, happy, but certainly monochromatic. Her thoughts swirled with the looming clouds…

Where Are You Now?

Baby don’t you cry I don’t have enough tears to carry us both Strength pushes us forward Love does not smother You are more than what I can offer To be free Even if it’s not with me Baby Daylight is near And I must disappear It tears me apart To break both our hearts Baby don’t lose me You will be found Baby don’t forget me I will remember you Baby don’t blame me I hope I did you right

Skip to the third page

Sem and I were laughing about a week ago over this girl who was “gossiping” about me. She was saying something about how when I walk around campus, I look angry. I have to give it to her, I probably do have a resting bitch face. I don’t mean to look like that, and while the cop out excuse is to say “that’s just how my face is, how dare you” I know there’s more to that story. Truth be told, I’m a defensive person. And a resting bitch face is code for “keep out unless invited in”. And going…