It’s hot out. Hotter than I realized it would be. Spending most lunch hours leaning over my keyboard, I don’t expend a lot of energy wondering about the midday weather. I didn’t have the energy to run this morning and so, I decided to leave it to now. Running later is an option, but that… Continue reading Run, run little girl.
POSTS
Sometimes, it’s just crappy.
There’s this thing people do, I’ve found. This thing where they try and contextualize and compare your pain. They think that explaining how others have suffered in a similar fashion will somehow radically change your feelings. It doesn’t though, not really. I mean, it does in the sense that you can avoid some level of… Continue reading Sometimes, it’s just crappy.
Hot Mess Express.
My brain tracks the bead of sweat as it travels from the nape of my neck, down my spine, and finds a home in the lower region of my thin cotton tank. The dampness of my tank is almost indistinguishable from the veritable pool I’ve accumulated by the waist of my skirt. I press my… Continue reading Hot Mess Express.
A Hairy Situation.
I stare at the piece of hair. I’ve seen so many pieces of my hair detached from my head over the years. Curly, dyed strands wrapped around stubborn hair elastics and plastic nubbed brush bristles. But now, I gaze at the long, dark wet strand plastered to my tiled shower wall. It feels complete in… Continue reading A Hairy Situation.
The Ick.
I paused before writing this piece. I hesitated for a variety of reasons. It wasn’t some feeling of embarrassment connected to the admission that I watch reality television. It’s not a staple for me, but I certainly haven’t shied away from it, either. Why? Oh, well, likely for the same reasons everyone else watches it.… Continue reading The Ick.
I’d rather fail trying.
Saturday, May 2, 2026, 6:45 a.m. The whole thing was pretty surreal. Correction: it is surreal. It’s still ahead of me. All of it. The day is here and so it feels like one part of it is done. The anticipation part. The preemptive anxiety that comes just before the thing. Thoughts of what I… Continue reading I’d rather fail trying.
Sus and the Korean JGL.
I’m watching them, Sus and Choi- with something that resembles familiarity and also, as an outsider might. This is an active endeavor as knowledge of Sus is built into my DNA. Sus is funny. I know this with certainty, but I’m not sure whether she’s actively trying to amuse our tour guide or if this… Continue reading Sus and the Korean JGL.
Oh, Bob.
Activate your bob- screams advertisements and influencers alike. Image after image of women of all ages and their silky, shiny, chic bobs. Chin length, shoulder length, and even a slick bob- sculpted into something of a sassy helmut with an abundance of product and care. Some shaggy bobs, but not too messy. Just the kind… Continue reading Oh, Bob.
Aunt Sandy.
I wake with a start and realize that the window I shoved open in some perimenopausal spiral is still ajar. Any other April morning this might be acceptable, but a late cold front has hit New York, and I can feel the brutal chill in the air on the extremities that have escaped my quilt.… Continue reading Aunt Sandy.
EHC.
I keep wracking my brain trying to think of something clever to say. I stare at the cursor unforgivingly blinking at the top left corner of my screen and it’s making me increasingly anxious. There is something in me that wants to sound profound. Meaningful. Despair fills corners of my heart, and yet, overwhelmingly, I… Continue reading EHC.
thepathtoworthy.com 