I wanted to write a piece of heartbreaking beauty.
But the reality is messy. And ugly.
The reality is mundane and frustrating and overwhelming. Never-ending.
Memories pile up like stacks of paper that grow on counter-tops and seem to reproduce themselves in the night.
I try to create beauty—and separation—with the gloss of beautiful words. I write blog posts that package my life into clever, compact stories with characters and story-arcs and tidy little endings.