Long-ish Form

I've been a writer all my life. If you know me, this is the one thing you know is true. It's one of the only things about me I am certain of and, if you know me, you know I am not certain of anything. So far, I am an unverified philosopher, book skimmer, people reader, chameleon, and queen of my own crochet kingdom. All of those are suppositional, but of being a writer I am sure.

What does it mean to be in Love? How do you know when it has happened to you? Who has the right to say? Why must it be that Love must last until, when? Forever? Feelings aren’t facts, and impermanence is our reality; must we make forever out of our Love for it to be real? I would like forever. Someone who will wake up morning after morning and choose me, again and again. I want it for its predictability, the steadiness of it. A promise and then an action, an equation repeatin

Being human is a complicated business. It is not impossibly complicated; we have, after all, been managing for millennia. That said, we’ve been arguing over what “being” human means for almost as long. It is in no way a monolith. The types of experiences we have vary so greatly, and our minds are so bad at processing magnitude, that we can’t fathom what most of those experiences could even be, much less what they are. Of course we share a great deal in common: our hearts whic