I am eternally grateful for being picked to fly on this marble through space. To what? From what? I am here to learn.

I am made from the same dust as mountains, Beyonce and ocean floors. I have spent my entire existence to become who I am right now, in hopes of harnessing my potential energy to become the best possible combination of atoms possible.


I am flawed. I am bitchy. I am an anxious, bitchy burden. I am low tide.

Self-loathing waves lick the shorelines clean and soften the edges of the rocks, dragging the garbage into the depths of the muck under the brown, stained water.

I am sinking,



into the darkness. Dragged by the weight of other people’s unwanted baggage.