Hey, love. Listen. Sometimes depression is just a thing you have. Sometimes it ain’t going anywhere. You can do all the work and troubleshooting, putting in effort and doing what you should with nutrition, exercise, sleep habits, gratitude, mindfulness, therapy, medication, and so on, and still… you know, have depression…

Thrift stores — and nights in my Corolla — led me to the power of books — When I was 19, I threw a mug of hot coffee at a framed wall tapestry my dad purchased when he was in Italy. …

If the tears and outrage of white liberal feminists dictate the energy of the entire anti-capitalist, anti-colonial, anti-patriarchal movement — which is to say, if brutality and political violence upon ‘lower’ classes is generally met with apathy and brunch and gossip about Johnny Depp, or perhaps with talk of voting…

It’s worth overcoming initial skepticism to add these crucial tools to our lives — An admission: I usually skim or outright skip the lengthy cooking-recipe-website-esque intro paragraph(s) before most articles get going. Shitty ones usually serve the same rhetorical purpose as the headline, and if I’ve already clicked the thing — as I’m aware you have — then I’ve already bought in and the…

in 7th grade i dyed my hair red. bright, fire red. it was great; i looked like Jean Grey’s filipino bastard kid. for 3 Christmases in a row i asked for a bass guitar. the one i got that year was red as my damn head and i brought it…

to whom am I a burden, and to whom am I a gift if only I could just ask, without the complicated waltz of neurotypicality, the norms of polite deceit and blahblah fucking blah so instead of asking I hunt for clues, sensitive and vigilant and poorly calibrated, every data…

Poetry — sometimes self care is a nice walk or some yoga sometimes it’s a burrito the size of a secret Republican baby sometimes it’s a blunt or time with your cat in a cuddly mood sometimes it’s bingeing a good show or time with friends or time alone sometimes it’s drinking water or watering plants sometimes it’s a bath or tidying up or a bit of art sometimes it’s writing a poem or reading one on Medium

Poetry — they said the general is dead We said good. they said how dare we speak that way of a man of great deeds, a man with accolades and prestige, sworn loyal to the nation’s creed We shrugged. they called him politician, diplomat, statesman. their voice shrieked from the screens: we are the news! who are you? We called him war criminal, liar, murderer, tool. Our voice blossomed from the soil: we are the culture, we are the truth. And we are not your fools.

Poetry — i started writing a poem about the brutality of loneliness. i scribbled something like, “how is it a heart can detonate in complete silence,” but couldn’t find what else to say. then i saw the ‘publish’ button in the corner of my eye, and pushed it anyway.