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TS Aug 2017
I'm in a thousand ******* pieces and I just stare at the mess, blankly.

I've always hated puzzles, especially when so many pieces are missing.

-t.s.
TS Jun 2020
Sitting on my porch with a messy bun atop my head, wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, spiral bound notebook in hand, and my knees up to my chest.

Reflecting on the years past, the bridges that I've built and the ones I've burned. It's interesting how seasons play such a big part of our lives. The weather is just one of those. It's cold outside, we change our clothes to warmer ones, light fires in the fireplace, drink warm drinks. It's hot outside, we change our clothes to cooler ones, swim in cool water, drink ice cold drinks. We are constantly trying to be exactly the opposite of our surroundings. Why?

Besides the general scientific fact of hypothermia and heat exhaustion, we not only change who we are in season of weather but in seasons of life. When we are in high school, all we do is long to grow up. When we are grown, we miss those carefree nights catching fireflies in our backyard. When we need friends so bad that we would do anything, even reject who we are, to be important to someone. When we recognize our importance and that quality over quantity is key.

Life holds so many twists and turns. One can look back on the last 5 years of your life and see just how much you've changed, how those around you have changed and the changes that will come in the path ahead.

It's okay to not be the same, feel the same, or want the same things as you did 5 years ago. You didn't disappoint your younger self, you just grew. You grew into someone new that has been seasoned by life experience. At 17, maybe all you wanted was to go to college, get drunk, have tons of friends, and be free. At 32, all you need is a quiet home with space just for you and your art. You yourself are a season and it's perfectly okay to change.



-t.s.
TS Jul 2017
'Likes' are not hugs.

Comments are not kisses.

Views are not a hand holding mine.

And yet I crave this attention more than anything. Eyes stretched wide, I live for that next hit, the next 'like'. I lose sleep over how many views I need to keep going. I am a wasteland of media, searching for any signs of life.

I am despirate.


I am addicted.



I am far from social.

-t.s.
TS Aug 2017
That violin plays and I am reminded.

I remember those sweet moments with you, we were inseperable.

I feel the warmth in my heart from when we would dance together, from our late night laugh sessions.

I feel the closeness of our hearts that this song brings to me.

We were the best of friends, sisters even.

I close my eyes and this song takes me to a land I've forgotten, a place where nothing mattered but your smile beside mine.

I feel my heart flutter, longing for the past burried so far below now.



A sole tear rolls down my cheek as this song comes to an end

because if I have learned anything in this lifetime it is that even the most beautiful, powerful and unapologetically fierce things come to and end.

-t.s.
TS Dec 2019
Lay on your hand 'til it falls asleep so when you strum your guitar it's a stranger's melody.




-t.s.
TS Jul 2017
Me: walks out into the street

Driver: "Hey kid! Get out of the road! You're gonna get hurt!"

Me: "I never had the chance to be a kid. And getting hurt? That's the idea."

-t.s.
TS Aug 2017
My brain rattles around and I'm lost on what to say, what to do, where to start. There is a mountain of things on my list of life. I don't want the list, I dont want anything on it, I don't want life.

I just want to run. Run very far away forever and ever until the end.

-t.s.
TS Jul 2017
I want to be hit by a car.

I want it to run me over twice just to make sure I'm dead.

I want to get in a fight so I come up on the wrong end, dead.

I want to feel a cold knife against the muscles, the bones.

I want to be crushed by a tree or rhinoceros, doesn't matter what.

I want to feel my bones snap and my skin tear.


I want to feel anything.
I want to feel nothing.
I want to be gone.

-t.s.
Don't call the psych ward, I won't go back. I'm not acting on it, just feeling those feels.
TS Nov 2019
The wind plays a symphony that only the silent can hear.
Close your eyes, put your mind at peace, and open you heart to the sound.
Let the breeze fill your lungs and lift you higher.
Hear the rustle of the leaves high above and the gusts whistling a tune.
Windchimes add percussion while the hum of the earth beneath your feet casts a steady beating of your heart.
Breathe in, breathe out becomes the harmony.
And the wind roars the melody.
You are the conductor, the one in control.
You guide the song through its journey and take a victorious bow.
And when you stand and look out again and wonder why it has to go,
Remember that there will always been another symphony storm



-t.s.
TS Mar 2020
This is the age.


The age of standing up for yourself no matter what knocks you down.

The age of being a warrior through and through but also knowing it's okay to break down some times.

The age of knowing your worth and accepting nothing less.

The age of power among women, lifting each other up instead of ruthlessly tearing each other down.


There is no sense in stepping on your fellow woman as she is up against the same enemy you are. You know that saying, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend"? Well, let's put that into practice. Let's stand hand in hand with the women beside us because we cannot and will not be trampled. We have strength, worth, intellect, and kindness - the most lethal combination. Don't prove to others that you are powerful, you don't need their validation. Instead constantly show it to yourself. Emulate that bravery and despite what others believe, you will topple even the tallest mountains.


This is the age.

The age of women.





-t.s.
TS Jan 2018
You are the color of a kiss,
passionate and complex;
A cold, tall glass of water
just after you've had ***

You are the color of a road trip,
with windows down and sunnies on.
The color of a love ballad,
or a fulfilling and perfect yawn

You are the color of a silk petal,
floating to the Earth,
A limited edition coin
and all that it is worth.

You are the color of adventure,
and freshly baked apple pie;
The color of snowfall on your face,
drifting down from the night sky

You are the color of paints
that stores just do not sell;
A sit-in or a marching protest,
fervent and raising hell.

You are the color of the strength
that arises with the dawn;
And when a king is overtaken
by a simple little pawn.

You are the colors found in everything:
extraordinary, nonetheless,
But more than all of that combined,
a fact I must confess;
You are the color of love and life,
with all that magic you possess.




- t.s.
TS Feb 2020
Trigger warning : aggressive ****** encounters, ****, violence

Walking down an empty street in London, I‌ was drawn to a crumbling, empty church. It's as if ‘decay’ was written on the walls. A sight unseen, I‌ just had to explore. It looks as though no one has been there for years, decades, or maybe even centuries. Wooden trim adorned the boarded up windows and an altar like a hidden stage lay in the very front. Layers of dust coated the floor. Two balconies towered over either side of the altar and what was left of the chairs sat facing the front of the church. The room was almost a half circle, drawing the attention to the front altar. The ceilings seemed to rise for miles and the windows cast haunted shadows on the floor. Everything is dingy and dull in color, as if it was a forgotten coloring book page that has faded overtime. As I tiptoed across the floor, I inspected each little thing almost in search of a lost treasure.

The energy is strange, almost as if it had been frozen in a paradox of time. Everything was left as if they fled in a hurry, untouched by the passing of years. What was it about this place that I was drawn to? What community used to worship here? What happened to them that left this church in this state. I‌ wasn’t sure I would find out the answer to any of these questions until I‌ spotted a dusty old book on a table by the door. Inside was a language I‌ did not know and notes scrawled on the page margins in pencil. “Gratias agimus tibi propter Princeps tenebris, princeps infernum.” it read. Was this latin? That might make sense as many of the Christian religions’ texts derived from the latin language. Since google is a thing now and we have an infinite access to so much information, I decided to give it a go.

‘We worship thee prince of the darkness, ruler of hell.’

I don’t think this was a Christian church…

As I‌ read these words aloud, a whisper seemed to escape from the walls around me. Carefully, I continued to explore, making sure to not disturb anything. Toward the back of the room was a wall trimmed in wainscoting dusted in a faded brown stain. A large hole was torn through a space on the bottom and a faint light flickered from inside. Was I not the only one here?

Next thing I‌ knew, I‌ was on my hands and knees, crawling through this hole. Why am I not able to control myself? I‌ should have left the instant I‌ read the inscription.‌ Something tells me that someone wants me to be here. Through cobwebs and rodent dung, I‌ reached an opening and stood up. It was a room with dirt walls and floor. There was a single oil lamp lit on a desk across the room. The furniture was skewed about and a questionable, almost luminescent red powder on the floor across the room. When I‌ got closer, I‌ also noticed the shards of glass spread on the ground around the powder. I reached down to touch the powder. I‌n the blink of an eye, I‌ was across the room, wondering what had happened. Before I‌ could even form a full thought, there was movement from the hole in the wall I‌ had just climbed through. A‌ little boy appeared, no older than 8, dressed in ***** wool trousers and a half tucked in, stained linen shirt. He wore a newsboy hat on his head that had certainly seen better days. On his shoulder was a worn bag which looked to be carrying something heavy.

“Hi there. My name is Anna. Are you lost?”

He walked by me as if I‌ were a ghost.

He was looking around, almost searching for something.

“Wh-what are you looking for?”

He made his way to the desk in the corner with the oil lamp and laid his bag down on the chair. He looked under and around with a near disappointed look. What was he trying to find? His eyes suddenly widened and he darted toward a nearby bookshelf, pulling down a crystal decanter from the top shelf. It was full of that same ghastly powder I saw before!‌ I‌ turned to look at that spot on the floor, only to find it clear and no broken glass scattered. To my surprise, the decanter came hurdling across the room, right passed my head, and smashed into the wall. I‌ turn quickly to see the little boy and he was gone. I blink and again am across the room where I‌ was before. I‌ shake my head and rub my eyes. What just happened? I‌ should really get out of here - I don’t think its safe to be here.

I‌ turned to leave but caught a glimpse of the little boy’s bag on the chair. Why was this still here? Why wouldn’t he take it with him? I‌ had to see what was inside. I picked up the bag and pulled each item out; a rock-hard loaf of bread nearly mummified, a small black book on elementary mathematics, a very old key, and sort of spherical item wrapped in a brown cloth.

I‌ removed the cloth to reveal a black clouded crystal ball. As soon as my hands touched its surface, I blinked and I‌ was out in the main room of the church with at least 30 people lingering around their chairs talking. I was no longer holding the ball, and everything had a bit brighter of a color to it. The room was still dark but the windows were not boarded up. There still lie some rubble on the ground but much less than before.

“Uhm, hello? Who are you? What is happening?”

I reached out to one of the people and they said nothing - they didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Everyone was dressed in very old clothing. Corsets, bustles, and shiny leather shoes. It was as if I stepped into a chapter of a victorian era book.
Despite the demeanor of the patrons, their clothes were still a little worn, torn, *****, and drab. Everyone carried on their conversations in a reasonable tone until a bell rang - everyone found a seat.

A lanky gentleman appeared at the altar in black clothing and spoke to the crowd.

“My fellow followers of Lucifer, I‌ beseech thee to bow down in worship to our almighty prince. He hath lead us to the depths of the fire and bestowed on us the power to destroy life itself.”

Each person knelt down and faced the ground in what I‌ would assume is reverence.

“For over a thousand years, this temple has held a dark mass for our dark lord, in which we show our dedication to his unholiness in the form of a sacrifice. Who among you has brought a gift to Satan himself?”

A petite, young, beautiful woman rose and approached the altar. Her head bowed in reverence and a veil over her head, she held out her arms. The man took a small item wrapped in a brown cloth from her and set it on the altar. They continued their ritual by spreading what I imagine was blood along the edge of the altar in a circle. As the man worked, the crowd of people mumbled in unison like a prayer. I watched from the side, trying to understand why I‌ was here and why no one would speak with me.

“Ma’am, what is this place?” I‌ asked a nearby worshiper. She said nothing.
“Excuse me,” I‌ nudge a young man to her left, “what is everyone doing?” He did not even look at me.

The mass continued in latin and I‌ watched quietly in confusion.

Nearly an hour passed and the mass seemed over. The people start chatting away as they had before and the gentleman at the front makes his way to the back wall where the hole was before. The young woman stopped him and asked to speak. I follow them to the back of the church. The gentleman quietly opens a door hidden in the wall right where the hole was and they walk in. I sneak in with them as the gentleman closes the door.

“Elizabeth, I am glad you came today. I was starting to worry that your faith was wavering. You haven’t seemed yourself lately since that human left.” the gentleman addressed the young woman as she sat in the chair by the desk. Everything was neater now and the furniture was placed in a purposeful way, much like a room in a house.

“Jonathan was the love of my life, Cain. I miss him every day. I don’t wish to go on in this world any longer.” Elizabeth squawked back with tears in her eyes.

Cain goes to comfort her, sits with her, and holds her in his arms as she sobs gently. He offers her his handkerchief and she accepts gracefully.
“Darling, you have so much more to give here. Lucifer needs your fortitude and dedication. But most of all, I need you.” He says, wiping a tear from her cheek.

As she rests her head on his shoulder, I look around the room. The powder is no longer on the floor and the decanter is on the table. I turn my attention back to the couple and I‌ see him kiss her softly. She turns away,
“Cain, please…” she whimpers, “I am not ready for this yet.” Cain nods and stands up. He walks across the room to a metal bowl with a pitcher and pours a glass of water.

“You should leave, Elizabeth.” he states without making eye contact. “You have no business being here if you will continue to cohort with humans. You have been given a dark gift that you are wasting away. You have been made beautiful to be a glorious gift to our community and you have disgraced us by your unfaithfulness.”

Shocked, Elizabeth stands and walks toward him with more tears in her eyes, “Cain, you know I‌ love you. I‌ want to stay with the community, to contribute and prove my worth. Please give me a chance.” she sobs.

He takes her in his arms and calmly says, “Elizabeth, you know what you must do. You know your purpose. You are the source of intimacy in this coven. You are our only hope to offer what we have to Lucifer.”

Elizabeth sighs and softly agrees. She looks defeated, tired, sad. I just want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it will be okay. I‌ blink back tears from my eyes. As I open them, I‌ am back in the main room surrounded by people. Cain is standing at the altar beside Elizabeth who is dressed in a beautiful black lace gown and veil. Cain lifts the veil from her face and kisses her neck. Her expression unchanged, still flooded with defeat. Cain starts to unbutton her gown. What is happening? Why are all these people watching this? She doesn’t look happy… why is no one stopping this? Cain starts to aggressively remove her clothing until she is standing bare and vulnerable in front of the crowd.

“What are you doing?!” I‌ scream.
“Leave her alone!” I‌ run to the front to try and stop them but I‌ am invisible.

As Cain removes his trousers, Elizabeth stands there calmly but with deep sadness in her eyes. He motions to the altar and Elizabeth lays down. Cain climbs on top of her and starts to penetrate. He begins aggressively … well there is no other word for it besides ****. He is ****** her. Her eyes fill with tears but she blinks them back. He gains speed until he finally ******* inside her. She blankly stares at the ceiling and a single tear rolls down the side of her face, landing in her now unkempt hair.
Why? Why did this happen? What is going on? Why did no one stop this?
A man in the crowd stands up and walks to the front. When he reaches the altar, he begins to undress.

No.

Not again. There is no way. Why would they be doing this? Why is no one stopping this?!

Man after man after man violates Elizabeth while she lays silently on the stone altar. I am sobbing now. Why am I‌ powerless? Why can’t I‌ stop this? Why is this happening?

What seems like hours pass of this horror and Elizabeth finally stands up. She puts her gown back on and replaces her veil. Cain stands beside her and grabs her hand. He recites something in latin then repeats in English, “The marriage of the many.” They begin a ceremony similar to a wedding but instead of a groom, on the altar lies the decanter of powder.
The ceremony continues and I can hear Elizabeth faintly sobbing, “Jonathan…” she whispers. She blinks back her tears and looks up. She sees him standing by the door, tears off her veil and runs to him. He was not there. Men from the crowd drag her back to the altar. She is screaming, “I‌ won’t marry him! Jonathan has my heart. I‌ would rather die than give myself over to Lucifer!” Cain hits her across the face leaving a throbbing red mark.

She cradles her face from the pain as Cain yells,
“Don’t you dare disgrace us! You are the ultimate sacrifice to our king and you must obey!”

Cain drags her back to the altar and chains her down. He pulls a knife from his belt and lifts it in the air yelling, “To thee I‌ offer, oh king of hell, this sacrifice of violated innocence. Come forth and bestow your gifts upon us as we offer her to you.” I‌ lunge forward to try and stop him. Just as he is about to plunge the knife in her chest, the decanter on the altar opens and the powder bursts into the air. A loud voice bellows through the church,

“You dare disgrace this innocence. An offer of such little worth hath no result for a coven such as yours.” A strong gust of wind throws Cain against the wall. The blow kills him instantly. The crowd bursts into chaos. Elizabeth, still chained to the altar, is hysterically sobbing and trying to break free. From the cloud of wind, a man walks toward her. He is tall with dark features. He has deep black eyes and a chiseled jaw line and body. He walks to her. Elizabeth looks up and is speechless. The man crouches down to unchain her and kindly helps her up.
“They hath defiled you, oh innocence. For this they shall burn.” He speaks in a deep voice. He extends his hand and half of the crowd turns to ash. He looks into her eyes and kisses her neck.

Elizabeth looks to the ceiling with tears in her eyes and mutters, “Please don’t hurt me…”
“Why would I hurt the most purest gifts my father has given the world?” He says as he holds her face. “I have removed the human from your life to clear your path to glory. In my father’s spite, we will be betrothed tonight. You shall rule hell beside me and bear my children.”
She sobs, “You … you killed him? I loved him!”
“Girl, you know nothing of love.” He says flatly. She looks at him in surprise, tears still falling down her cheeks. Chaos is still roaring around them as the crowd tried to escape the hellfire. “These filthy creatures are not worthy of your power. You belong to me now.” She tries to break free of his grip but he is far too strong for her. He lifts her up and lays her on the altar and begins to overtake her as she cries.
I stand to the side helplessly. Sobbing with her. I close my eyes and wish it over. I‌ want to leave now. I can’t take this.
Silence. I open my eyes to the sudden stillness and there sits a pregnant Elizabeth in a dark, empty church. Tears are gently running down her face and I realize that I‌ have not yet seen her with a smile on her face. Lucifer appears to her and holds her in his arms. I can’t hear anything. They are speaking but there is no sound. He lays her down and she yells - she is in labor. A small bundle wrapped in a cloth is delivered and the dark lord holds it in his hands and looks down calmly. Elizabeth stands up behind him with anger in her eyes. She pulls a knife from her cloak and plunges it in his neck. He drops the child but Elizabeth reaches to catch it just in time. She runs to the door with the cloth in her arms and slams the door behind her. A furious Satan rips the knife from his neck and runs to the door. He slams on it with his fists and yells. I‌ still cannot hear.
I blink and see Elizabeth on the steps of a church, crying softly. She gently lays the bundle on the door step and runs away. A woman appears at the door and picks it up, cradling it in her arms.
I‌ blink and see Elizabeth back in the church, holding the decanter and stealthy creeping around the corners. She turns around and Lucifer is standing there.
“You have betrayed me. All freedoms have been stripped from you. You will no longer sit beside me and rule hell. You will be caged and retained for only reproduction. You WILL bear my children and I‌ shall take them from you, never to be seen again. This will continue until I‌ have used the last of you and then you will be destroyed.” He exclaims angrily.
Elizabeth stands straight up, holds the decanter in her hand and yells, “I‌ banish thee, Satan, to the confines of this prison. You shall never again walk the face of this earth.”‌ As she opens the lid, the dark lord plunges the knife she used on him into her chest. A gust of wind engulfs him into the decanter. Elizabeth drops to the floor. A‌ knife in her chest, she struggles to put the top on the decanter. She crawls to the wall where the door once was. She begins to peel away the pieces of the wall weakly. She works in pain for what seems like hours until she makes it into the room. She drags herself over to the bookshelf and hoists herself up. She places the decanter up as far up as she can and tries to cover it with a cloth. As she reaches, she falls. Upon hitting the ground, she fades into dust.
I‌ stood there silently, shocked. This woman. I feel like I‌ know her. She is so strong and brave. I‌ am in awe and also in tears. I‌ collapse to the ground in the dust she left behind. I‌ mourn her, her hardships, her life. She deserved so much more.
I open my eyes and I‌ see a little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old enter the room. She looks around. I yell, “Leave!‌ This place is dangerous!‌”
Bewildered by the things around her, she wanders to the bookshelf. She looks so much like Elizabeth. Could this be? Could it be her daughter? She is holding a small bag. She sits down at the desk and opens it. Its her lunch. She begins to eat and continue looking around. She sees the light from the oil lamp gleam off the crystal decanter. Excited, she pushes the chair up against the bookcase and climbs up. On her tippy toes, she manages to reach the decanter. She sits back down and twirls it around, moving the powder from one side to the other. A small amount of powder escapes in a puff. You can hear a whisper, “Victoria…” I‌ hear. She hears it too.
“Hello? Who’s there?” she squeaks. She puts the decanter down and walks around. She turns around to return to her lunch and is greeted by Lucifer himself, though she doesn’t know this. He is weak. The remainder of his strength lies in the decanter. He can’t speak. He grabs her and yells - she screams and breaks away from his grasp. She takes off in the other direction and crawls back through the hole. She looks behind her then darts toward the door. He is standing there in front of the door. He waves his hand and the large metal door bolts shut. She stops dead in her tracks, stares at him for a moment, then takes off.
Frantically running through the church, Victoria is trying to find any means of escape. Tears in her eyes, she evades Lucifer’s grasp several times. The windows are boarded up, the doors are bolted, and it seems there is no way out. Suddenly a little gleam of light comes from above. The balcony. She starts toward the wall and begins to climb up the trim as quickly as she can. Lucifer is close behind, yelling but unable to speak words to her. She reaches for the balcony and pulls herself up.
Suddenly I‌ am outside on the balcony and Victoria is reaching for the railing. She is reaching for the light. She is reaching for me. She looks into my eyes and yells, “Help me! Please!” and extends her hand. Surprised that she can see me, I reach out to grasp her hand but before I‌ can get her, she is pulled screaming back into the church. I‌ lunge forward to pull her back but land on the floor of the back hidden room breathing heavily. I stand up and dust myself off. I am in the middle of the powder and glass that was on the floor. I grab the book I‌ found and start to run for the door. I‌ can’t get caught by him, he will **** me. A thousand things are running through my mind. I crawl through the hole and head toward the door. Something compels me to look back as I pull open the door.
There he stood.
Staring at me.
“Daughter, fear not. I will find you and we will rule together with your sister.” He says.
Daughter? Sister? Who am I?
Trigger warning : aggressive ****** encounter, ****, violence
TS Feb 23
11.29.23 I'll start the story and then never finish it because there will always be more to write. There will always be more to our story. Or so I hope.




2.2.24 I started the story and never finished because missing you cuts too deep to write of our missed adventures. There are no more words left to our story.




Because it's not our story anymore.




-t.s.
TS Jul 2022
An unexpected trigger arose today. I won a brass mirror in a raffle that I was able to take home to use in my house. The staff helped me load it into my car, but now I have to get it into the house.

I helped my friend, who won a shelf from that same raffle, load it into her car. She took it home and her husband helped unload it and put it into place.

All of a sudden, a wave of sadness washed over me.

I don't have that.

I don't have someone to help me carry in the groceries, someone to sit next too while I talk about my day, someone to offer me a hand with the dishes, or someone to help with the heavy things.

There's some sort of double meaning there that one could uncover. How I not only have to carry the truly heavy things alone, but also how I have to carry the emotionally heavy things alone.

So much of my life I have been independent - practically taught to be that way from a young age. It was expected that if something needed carried, washed, or felt, I had to handle it alone. Typically I would consider independence a good things, but this one wrecked me. It reminded me of how truly alone I am in this life.

Of course I have friends to talk to, people who can help me move if planned far enough in advance, and friends who I can have dinner with - but every one of those things is circumstantial and temporary.

I consistently try to be comfortable with who I am enough that I don't NEED anyone but honestly, sometimes that isn't enough.

I may appear fiercely independent and self sufficient, but inside, I am still that little girl who feels forced to do the hard things alone. The little girl who was taught that help and companionship is a luxury only some people find. You can't buy it, you can't manufacture it, you can negotiate it. There are just some things in this life that alone-people will never have.

It reminds me of this movie I saw where the main character is so used to being alone that she invents things to make her life easier as an alone-person. Specifically she makes a device that helps her zipper her dress without the help of another person. Its so sad to me that the world and the way it works is created for community, its created for people who have people. True self-sufficiency doesn't exist.

Now I'm forced to sit here with this mirror in the backseat, reminded by it's presence that I am alone, at the core, in this world.

So I'll walk out of here, go home, and sit alone on my couch, eat dinner alone, and cry alone, while the mirror stays, unmovable, alone in the car. Like me, forced to understand that without help, you can never truly be powerful enough to be completely independent.  





-t.s.
TS Jun 2019
That split second is when you know the truth -
It's life altering in the most subtle of ways.
Most people wouldn't give a second glance -
But I feel it all and start to count the days.


I can tell from the first thought how this will end -
Whether we fade away or go up in a flame.
The connection comes through like a freight train -
Here's hoping we don't end in the same way that we came.


I've never done things with one foot in and one out -
My style is always being present and driving full force.
I came storming through and you caught up
Now you've decided that's enough and sought another course.


I blame you, really. You saw me coming.
You knew from the beginning all about me.
I've never thrown a smoke screen or hidden my face
I've been an open book, every page turning to see.


Your judgement and cruelty is unmatched -
A deep reminder of how much I openly trust.
It just keeps raining so heavily, down the windows
I sit and stare as the pane begins to rust.


I may never figure this out and truly that's okay -
Knowing everything is overrated anyway.
I do however, know myself and am true to me -
I can call out my mistakes and failings on any single day.


Now I ask you, have you thought about who you are?
Have you considered your role in all this?
You preach 'no judgement' but it's a task you can't seem to fit -
Is there a thing about our friendship that you would even miss?


Look into the mirror and study what you see -
Look at the lines, the freckles, the shadows, and brows.
But look further, past the outer layer that you show the world -
Would you want to be your friend? With all that you are now?


Once you know the answer to these questions -  
And reflect upon what you see -
Remember these moments and how they end
And let that teach you how to be.



-t.s.
TS Sep 2019
Do you ever feel so overwhelmed that every nerve in your body tightens? Just so angry and anxious that you want to shake the dirt off of every fiber of your being. Crank up the volume in the car till your eardrums vibrate and only hear one constant, extremely loud noise. Clutch the steering wheel, speeding down the highway, eyes darting to the metal side rail, battling the urge to slam into it and flip your car.

How do I fix this? How do I avoid feeling this way from the beginning? It's the smallest things that set this off and it's absolutely suffocating - like a building on your chest, gasping for air. I think being reckless and overloading the senses helps. Sure it can really hurt you, but in that moment, nothing is okay. I just want it all to shut up - all the thoughts running through my head, all the emotions bubbling up. I just want peace. If that means shaking loose all the parts of my brain and filling that adrenaline by speeding down the highway - then so be it.



-t.s.
TS Jun 2017
He asks me,

"What do you hate about yourself?"

Suddenly, I am silent.


What do I hate?





What don't I hate?

- t.s.
TS May 2019
There's an odd sense of peace that lies beneath the surface of a storm, just waiting to be uncovered.

One may be tempted to just look at the chaos and noise and deem it malicious; but if you take a moment to truly uncover it's emotion, the way you look at storms will change forever:

Some may feel high winds, but instead try to feel the rush of energy past your ears, through your hair, and across your skin.

Some may cover from the heavy rain, but instead try running through it, letting it wash over you like cleansing waters.

Some may fear the booming thunder, but instead try to let the vibration course through your veins shaking loose the dust off your passion.

Some may shield their eyes from the blinding lightening, but instead try to trace it's every path across the night sky like a one-of-a-kind, split-second painting that only you have seen.

Some may be working on repairing the aftermath, but instead try to stop and take it all in for a silent moment, as the Earth has just screamed at the top of her lungs and created a masterpiece and you did not hide your face, cover your ears, or shield your head - instead you looked to the sky and breathed it all in; the beauty, the music, the shower of life. You have chosen to see the world as a work of art, even for just a moment - and the Earth smiles because she knows.




-t.s.
TS Dec 2019
Have I breathed life into the empty void around me or have I wasted precious air to a suffocating silence?




-t.s.
TS May 2019
It's all just words.

I don't really have anything profoundly intricate to say - everything I write is just a stream of consciousness jotted down on a note in my phone that I load to a website anonymously hoping someone, somewhere will see it and feel something.



-t.s.
TS Aug 2017
I thought of you again today while sitting at my desk.

I thought of how you make me feel so serene.

I thought of how if I were to just join you, I would feel at peace, too.



I am overwhelmed by this life and everything it shoves down my throat. I choke by its hand and tears stream down my emotionless face. I am broken.


I thought of you today.

I long to join you in sweet end.

I long to feel nothing again instead of everything all at once.



I thought of you today.

I thought, maybe I will finally decide to give in.

-t.s.
TS Oct 2018
It's when tragedy hits that we feel the smallest.

I feel like I can't help, like no matter what I do, I won't make a difference to the cause.

You're resilience and strength has inspired me the years that I have had the pleasure to know you. And now... Now there is this plague that is draining you and I can't change it or help it.

Your family has fought so many battles already. I have never met such a strong bunch. And yet, here they are, having to tackle ALS too.

Such a difficult thing. Something that has no cure or fix or remedy.

That's the funny thing about humans. We don't realize what it's like to not have control until we don't. How incredibly painful it must be to look at your hands, wanting to move them and nothing happens.

I put myself in your place, in your shoes and I am just a rock at the deepest darkest corner of the ocean, covered in algae and sand.

I am motionless.

Much like you will be for the rest of your life, however long we get to have you for.

I am flooded with the emotions and heart break. We have no control. We have no cure. We have no hope.

I want to muster all the hope and prayers I possibly can but I am just struck by the heart ache. I am weighed down by the thought of a world without you. I am scattered and crushed.

This entire time I have been saying nothing but "I" statements and how I feel and how I am. But this isn't about me and how heart broken I am... It's about you

The you who has been a pillar of love and strength to his family

The you who held his wife's hand as she battled cancer

The you who celebrated gleefully the 10 year anniversary of her remission

The you who lost loved ones to other dreadful diseases

The you who donated his time to the arts and the education system

The you who showed people how to think creatively

The you who raised three beautiful children

The you whose daughter is getting married this year

The you who won't be able to walk her down the aisle

The you gave and gave and gave until you actually couldn't walk anymore

This is all about you. The love that is being shown is to you. The tears that are being shed are for you. The hearts that are breaking, break for you. The minds kept up late at night writing frantically to ease the fears are for you. You are the center of this, our one priority.

Please, please let the prayers being poured out for you right now bring healing, bring peace and bring a miracle to you.

Life would not be the same without you and you need to know that.
TS Jan 2019
Let's just all stop judging each other okay?

I have a new challenge for you:

to amend your attitude, to not put others down for the things that erupt passion in their hearts.

When did it become the cool thing to look down on others because they show excitement for something?

I was recently thinking about the term 'tourist'. That word used to make me cringe. I hated the idea of being a tourist because I hated the idea of being the outsider, the person who isn't "from around here". In reality, however, we are all tourists. We can't be from everywhere and often times I still consider myself a tourist in my own town. I feel like "being a tourist" has gotten such a bad wrap. Often times the term is synonymous with "annoying" and "main-stream". I've heard people say, "Be a traveler, not a tourist." And I say, aren't they the same thing? Aren't they both people who are passionate about exploring somewhere  new? People spend so much time gawking at the tourists that kiss in front of the Eiffel tower or take photos in front of the Coliseum. How unfair is it for us to judge them for that? They are documenting a memory, their memory. They are fully immersed in the now. They are enjoying every last drop of everywhere they go.

It's disappointing to see so many people look down on others for the way they show their excitement and passion simply because it doesn't look like theirs. Just because you don't show your joy by taking a tour through the Louvre doesn't mean it's wrong. Sure, hidden gems of cities can always be cool and unique but that's not the only way to experience the world. Attractions are popular because they hold a value to so many people - if anything, that just makes it that much more worth it.

I myself, am more along the lines of getting off the beaten path and forging my own - but still floating back to earth a bit to see the views everyone's talking about. I know everyone travels differently and people are interested in other things - that's okay. That's what brings diversity and personality to the world. I'm not saying you need to conform and do what everyone else is doing, I'm just saying - don't judge others for how they choose to spend this life - but also, don't be afraid to spend yours how you want. Don't shy away from visiting Neuschwannstein Castle just because everyone goes there. Who cares how it looks to others? Only you. If we all spent a little less time judging others, maybe that would leave a little more time for enjoying the life we are in. You never know what is going to happen a week from now, a month from now, or years from now - so go do what excites your spirit - no matter how many or how little people do the same thing. Just go, explore the world, and be unapologetically you.
TS Feb 23
Being talked down to -
That never happened.

Being taken advantage of -
That isn't true.

Being stood up -
That's dramatic.

Being violated -
That's just plain wrong.

Being broken -
That's pathetic.


You put finger quotes around my word. The word I used to open up to you.

But oh... I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that you majored in my trauma enough to tell me my own history.



-t.s.
TS May 2020
When the world gets too loud
for you to hear your own thoughts,
  turn it off.

When the violence grows
and the fear bubbles over,
  turn it off.

When the pain of a nation
weighs too heavy on your heart,
  turn it off.

When you have no other option
but to board up your windows,
  turn it off.

When your heart starts to race
at the thought of tomorrow,
  turn it off.

When the words in the air
grow to heavy to bear,
  turn it off.

When your dreams are overtaken
by death and despair,
  turn it off.

When it's too hard to find beauty
in this world anymore,
  turn it off.

When you have no more strength
to hold up your head,
  turn it off.


Closing out the heaviness of the world is not cowardice or ignorance, sometimes it just necessary. Don't judge others or feel fear about giving yourself time.



-t.s.
TS Jul 2017
I am far more disappointed with my life than you can understand.

My 'friends' are ******.
My job is lifeless.
My soul is black.

I used to think deep and dark is beautiful but now it just feels endless.

-t.s.
TS Feb 2018
I want to write to inspire you, to show you, to lead you.

I want my words to take you to new continents and sail you across seas.

I want my imagery to paint such a masterpiece, you could reach out and feel the wind.

I want to keep you captivated by these letters in a combination no one has dared to try.

I want my poems, my stories, my thoughts, my dreams to be the ones you copy and paste, the ones you print and hang on your wall; not for fame and money but so that you see it every day and you are reminded that you are alive.

I want to show you how to smile again, how to face each day.

I want these lines to hold on to you, keep your tears from falling or help you let it all out.

I want my sentences to teach you how to love yourself again, how to be brave.

I want you to know, from my words, that there is nothing on this earth, in the entire complex universe, this endless sky of galaxies, that you can't be.


- t.s.
TS Jul 2017
You promised.

You swore.

You said you would.


We drank a little whiskey and I smiled at your goofy grin. I laughed when you bet me a stop sign that I would get sick on my 21st. Little did you know, I can handle my liquor  magnificently. We put some music on and swung-out to that 40s rhythm.


You promised you loved me.

You swore you would never leave.

You said you would always hold my hand.


I turned 21 last week and I sat in my cold apartment, alone. I did not drink, I did not smile, I did not laugh, I did not dance. Instead tears burned through my cheeks like acid rain. Instead my nose leaked into countless tissues. Instead I ignored my world.


The promises are broken.

Swearing is just curse words, now.

My hand is empty.


I turned 21 last week. I did not get sick. Now, all I can think is




Where the hell is my stop sign?

-t.s.
TS Nov 2019
Starry sky, crickets chirp, wind skips lightly across my skin
I whisper,
I am peaceful, my love.

Sun beams pierce the windshield, my hair floats recklessly from the open window, music playing,
I sing
I am carefree, my love.

A light drizzle with a light rustle in the trees, grey sky, puddles under foot
I mutter
I am lonely, my love.

Sharp cold air scratched against my face, snow like glass, shiver in my bones,
I Bellow
I am angry, my love.

Chaotic gusts like trains rushing by, thunder crashes, the sky groans in angst
I cry
I am in pain, my love.

The breeze softens and floats with the rain, eerie stillness, the world is quiet once more,
I gasp
I am exhausted, my love.

My moods are like the wind. Ever changing, ever growing, and forever calling your name.




-t.s.
TS Jun 2017
I swore I'd never write about you again.


You aren't supposed to be worth my time.


But my time is worthless and my hand knows nothing besides you.

-t.s.
TS Aug 2017
Don't you dare leave flowers at my grave.

As a matter of fact, don't even visit.

I don't want to see you weep or talk about how good of a soul I was.

You don't deserve to mourn me because you didn't take the time to know me.

-t.s.
TS Jun 2019
No one will truly listen... Everything I want to say or feel out loud will get me locked up in an institution. It's unfair. I can't speak without fear of someone deciding for me that I should be locked up. Don't tell me you know better than me and don't ******* tell me that you know what's best for me. You aren't in charge, you don't get to decide. If that means I have to be suicidal in secret then so ******* be it.


-t.s.
TS Jul 2017
I hate to see you doing well.
I know its shallow, petty, and sad

but call me all those things
because right now I'd rather you be alone.

You should be alone
after what you did to me.  

How is it that I'm the one fighting demons you created
and you're running with my dream that we created together?

I hate that you're doing well
and I wish that you weren't.

-t.s.

— The End —